9th December from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The heavy frost crunches underfoot. A vivid slash of magenta and orange across the eastern sky between the banks of louring purple clouds. The sea whispers to itself and far out on the bay the bright lights of the fishing boats show where little knots of humanity ply their trade. A vicious little breeze drops the temperature ever lower and a gull crosses above, wailing in the bitter air. The benches sparkle with their coating of rime in the street lamps orange glow. But from somewhere a pigeon coos as if it is already spring.
From 9th December 2021
Swathes of fine rain drift across the street lights. The sky is uniform and seems low and oppressive. To the North it reflects the glow of the town. Out over the bay the sea and sky are enveloped in inky darkness. Distant hazy lights may be a tanker passing up channel. The surf looms white out of the darkness onto the beach with a continuous soft roar. Then it begins to rain in earnest, the big thundery drops bouncing above the dark puddles like jewels. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #winter #december
From 9th December 2019
The sun is beaming down with some intensity from an unblemished pale blue sky. No sign of the gale we were promised but a stiffish breeze is razor sharp on my skin. The sea is well ordered with enormous green waves heaping up out in the bay then moving steadily inshore in an unbroken line until the tops begin to curl over and the breeze whips the white caps into a fine spray. These are big waves, well spread out that land with a satisfying thump. Half a dozen pigeons luxuriate on the green grass of the clifftop. A fine Monday Morning.
From 9th December 2010
a gold leaf pathway across the sea - straight to me.
