9th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The paths are wet from overnight drizzle. The light is subdued but the sun is trying to break through the lumpy grey clouds. There are vague shadows. A pigeon is cooing from high in the trees. The sea is asserting itself, not rough, but making a bit of a noise with the waves. A heavy smoky mist hangs over the bay softening the outline of the Purbeck Hills. Distant sounds seem muted. On the grass three pigeons are on the eternal quest to find something. I hope they find it some day. The sun comes out, goes in, comes out, goes in.
From 9th February 2022
The first rays of the dawn are bright pink and make twisted dark patterns on the gnarled trunks of the pines as they penetrate through the branches of the grove. They gradually turn orange and then sharp primrose. The sky is clear and blue except for a single thread of a contrail joining here with their. A purple mass of cloud stretches across the horizon joing the dark hills of Purbeck with the distant white cliffs of the Isle of Wight. The air is fresh and clean and the grass is silver with dew. The birds are looking smart in their spring plumages. The crows as black as an undertaker's hat. There are now so many voices in the dawn chorus it's difficult to pick out individuals - great tits, sparrows and many more. A pigeon coos. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #winter #February
From 9th February 2021
Before daybreak there is a crunchy layer of snow. It covers the road, made bright in the pools of streetlights. A thick topping blankets car bonnets and roofs. The wind is bitter and lively but for a moment there is that eerie silence as sound is swallowed. The world is stilled. It pauses. As the daylight creeps up, cars begin to move and we see that the whole thing was an illusion. A moment of peace in a chaotic world which has gone by coffee time.
From 9th Februaru 2014
The wind roars up over the cliffs, howls through the pines and then thumps into the side of the block.
