9th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Mostly steady rain interspersed with occasional dry spells and moments of downpour. The wind has dropped and the sea retreats far out at low tide leaving bright polished mirror areas of sand atthe tide’s edge where the occasional dog walker splashes long. The waves are long and low but course in steadily.

Ivy has regained a startling glossy green colour and a small patch of pink cyclamen reminds us of the approaching season change. it might be a garden escape but all waifs and strays are welcome on the West Cliff Green.

Two men have been renewing the warning signs about fires. Not the most unobtrusive sites but, then, I suppose that is the point.

The crow with the ragged wing perches uneasily on a post. It may not survive the winter.

From 9th September 2019

The strength of September comes from its strange, liminal feeling. Casting off the old year and not quite ready for the new. An odd mix and a sense of holding its breath and waiting for something else. Rain prickles my jacket and spots the path in front of me but not enough to make me quicken my steps. The sky is a felted, lumpy grey and the sea, while gentling swashing on the sand seems somehow restless and urgent. Above the clouds the overnight flights from Florida begin their long descent towards London. Pigeons coo as if trying to reclaim summer mornings and gulls machine gun half-heartedly from rooftop aerials.