11th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Although there are plenty of people on the Green, the atmosphere is subdued.
A milky, misty, hazy sky but the sun is warm and the breeze is gentle. Although there are plenty of people on the Green, the atmosphere is subdued. Voices seem hushed and reverent. Many walkers saunter along without saying a word. Everyone is polite. The sea is almost flat calm but just hushes gently on the sand. A pigeon claps its wings. The distant sound of an ambulance is like a large exotic jungle bird. Omar who is sleeping in the clifftop shelter says he is not looking forward to the cold weather.
From 11th October 2021
The air is fresh but still. The afternoon is clear and long. A cormorant skims low across the little waves. Gulls squabble on the sands. As the day wears on and as the sun dips towards the horizon all is peaceful. By evening the atmosphere is crisp and welcoming under a canopy strewn with the fire of stars and planets and a brilliant half-moon. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn
From 11th October 2015
Coming awake I could tell it was October. Not because of anything I could see outside but because of a certain light filtering through the blinds and a crispness in the air from the half open window.
From 11th October 2011
For all of you out on the prowl, tonight is the night of the Hunters' Moon.
10th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A clear blue sky with only smudges of long white clouds on the horizon. #westcliffgreen #bournemouth
Warm and sunny even with the regular cliff top breeze. A clear blue sky with only smudges of long white clouds on the horizon. The spring tides leave the beach flat and empty with one or two autumn meditators dotted along the sand. On the cliff top, the low sun provides surprising vistas from light into dark and dark into light along the paths. A couple gazing at the panorama of the sea, camera in hand say: “out daughter in Florida is always sending us photos of their blue skies and sea and we thought we’d send her some of ours. And without the hurricaes.” In a clump of bushes a collar dove is feeding on the ground. It is a neat pinkish juvenile without the collar. Startled, it flies up into the branches above.
From 10th October 2021
A windless, sunless morning but by mid day the grey had melted away and the sun beat down mercilessly from a clear sky. The little waves were hardly noticeable and the flat sands were peppered with families and walkers. After sunset the western sky was washed with pink, gold and pale green whilst the bright silver waxing crescent moon through a golden path across the bay. As the sky darkened to a near navy blue, Stars and planets sparkled and shone, distant leading lights and markers winked green and red. An evening flight returning from Faro shone its landing lights across the bay to compete with the moon. A cool breeze suddenly sprang up and lay a chill finger on my neck. Time to go in. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn.
9th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
But there is a rough wind which smoothes and polishes the ragged green waves on the bay so that it looks like the patterned obscure glass on a kitchen door.
A blue sky with tufts of white cloud. But there is a rough wind which smoothes and polishes the ragged green waves on the bay so that it looks like the patterned obscure glass on a kitchen door. The sun blazes off in a dazzling glare. Gulls wheel unconcernedly on the updraft which carries speckles of surf right to the clifftop. Smsall birds shuffle about the still green branches. Crows hunch morosely on the fenceposts. Someone has enjoyed his Sunday lunch too much and lies spreadeagled in the middle of the short grass although he might just be enjoying the passing clouds.
From October 9th 2021
A warm, calm autumn day. Misty in the morning but by mid afternoon, hot enough for a swim in the playful little waves. This evening it is fresh and clear with the stars and planets showing up brightly. Watched a family of rats scurrying across the path on the clifftop. We have an odd ambivalent response to these beautiful, glossy, chocolate brown, intelligent animals. Presumably because they are feeding from the wast bins. But then, so are the gulls, squirrels,foxes, badgers and myriads of other birds and creatures. I shall enjoy watching their antics for a while. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn.
8th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sky is absolutely cloudless and has that greenish hue that is special to the dawn. The sun melts up over the horizon.
Not quite a frost but there is a heavy dew on the grass and the faint breeze is icy cold. A blackbird chip chips its warning call. The gulls are rafting out at sea. A thrush stands alert on the path before flying off. The sea stretches and sighs. The sky is absolutely cloudless and has that greenish hue that is special to the dawn. The sun melts up over the horizon. Becaue there are no clouds to create dramatic colours and shapes, it is strangely pristine white gold. But the warmth is immediate and pigeons begin their dozy dawn song.
From 8th october 2021
A dry, misty morning. The sea swooshing gently across the sand leaving scallops of white foam all the way along the beach. The gulls are in full winter plumage. The black headed gulls have lost their distinctive dark chocolatey head colouring but they chase among the larger herring gulls hissing and running at rival black-heads to drive them away. A single white campion on a tall straggling stem does its best to look cheerful among the brown and orange grasses. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn
From 8th October 2015
Although it's still dark there is a faint smudge of light above the Isle of Wight. A gothic crescent moon is wreathed in clouds which sometimes allow a brief bright pinprick of light from Venus. Even the vertical drinking teams are now horizontal in their cheap hotel beds. the dark is not without life, though. A white moth flutters ghost-like in a street light, a robin chips annoyed at being disturbed, a spider drags its shadow along the path. Three joggers plod wearily around the clifftop paths. I can hear the sound of the recyclers and bin men at work. A council truck makes its way slowly along the promenade. Overhead, almost silent, the first flight from Hurn to Jersey while out at sea the Barfleur and a little bunkering tanker make their way across the bay. Bournemouth, the city that never sleeps.
7th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Fairy rings are beginning to appear everywhere a tree has grown in the past. The ones on the short grass are, perhaps, honey fungus, the bane of gardeners but all part of the natural order and cycle of things;
A brisk wind makes the sea roar and the tree tops sigh. It bumps the big grey clouds across the sky. Pigeons rummage in the shelter of the trees. A great tit flutters acros a gap struggling against the breeze. Fairy rings are beginning to appear everywhere a tree has grown in the past. The ones on the short grass are, perhaps, honey fungus, the bane of gardeners but all part of the natural order and cycle of things; helping trees to absorb nutrients whilst they are living and then breaking their remains down into the soil when the host is felled.
From 7th October 2021
Magical wonders today. A thick mist at dawn that turned the walk along the clifftop into a truly immersive event. Dog walkers and wanderers appeared and disappeared. Later we discovered a colony of Firebugs on the mallow plants. These bright red and black insects are latecomers to these shores and adore the seeds of the mallow that they cling to tenaciously and will not let go even when given a hefty shake. This evening, coming home in the dark, I could see a mass of elfin lights weaving and bobbing through the trees. A breathtaking sight as they streamed past me. An evening fitness class all wearing head torches that went on to make a fairy ring on the short grass and do, whatever it is fitness classes like to do. #Bournemouth #westcliff #autumn
From 7th October 2020
The edges of the morning are smudged and indeterminate. Even the horizon, usually a true and precise delineator, is hazy and imprecise. The distant hills have a water colour blur. The sun is shining brightly from a blue sky peppered with mackerel scales. But it is the quality of the light that tells us that it is autumn. Everything has a golden, pinkish quality that adds to the day’s imprecision. I know there is a proper scientific reason, the sun being low in the sky shines through a thicker part of the atmosphere and the brilliant blues are filtered out leaving us with this air of conditionality. Ifs and buts and maybes abound. The year moves on, uncertain and wavering hoping, like Mr Micawber, that something will turn up.
6th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Over the years many trees have fallen (apart from the murder victims). Sometimes a stump is left or a circle in the grass where toadstools grow at this time of year.
The wind rules everything up here on the clifftop. Regardless of how hot or cold, rainy or foggy, there is almost always a movement in the air even it is only the merest breath on a misty morning. But today there is a brisk wind, almost a gale at times. But it doesn’t only drive the swell across the bay or hurry the grey clouds across the sky, it is shoving against the trees and bushes. So like most exposed places they tend to grow with a pronounced towards the north and east. Eventually the trees fall or have to be made safe. Over the years many trees have fallen (apart from the murder victims). Sometimes a stump is left or a circle in the grass where toadstools grow at this time of year.
From 6th October 2015
The apartment blocks and hotels are set back from the cliff edge. They are stout and foursquare and figures of reassuring normality pass to and fro in their golden lit windows. But a hundred paces away beyond the clumps of pines long lines of ragged white surf are marching up the beach out of the darkness. Doubt and uncertainty are never more than a glance away.
5th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A small figure battles along the empty, flat sand into the teeth of the westerly gale.
A small figure battles along the empty, flat sand into the teeth of the westerly gale. The long waves race ashore covered in a long, lacy tablecloth that stretches from one end of the beach to the other. A banquet that happened many years ago. The wind wooshes in the trees. The paths are covered in the small acorns from the holm oak trees and the broken cases of the sweet chestnuts that quickly turn to flour where feet trample them. The goats are doing a good job eating the invasive bushes on the cliff face, letting the light in for the lower growing plants that will help stabilise the cliffs. But they also reveal a deep layer of bottles, cans and wrappers. The crow with the injured wing seems to be managing fine and hops about with a party of pigeons at the side of the path.
From 5th October 2021
The path is littered with twigs and pine needles. The air is fresh and cold and the sky is a transparent, pale blue. Unsullied apart from a band of gunmetal clouds heaped along the horizon. The usual pre-dawn activity. Crows and magpies croak and chatter A man with a big white shaggy dog and a whistle apparently specially designed for the dog to ignore so that the man resorts to shouting. Which also has no apprent effect on the dog. So the sound of the morning goes whistle whistle Rover come here croak, chatter, Rover, whistle whistle croak. A jogger in a mauve top and shorts. A personal trainer and his victim gloomily perform physical jerks on the grass. The tops of the clouds turn pink and orange. The clouds themselves become purple and the sun emerges, gold and bright and casts a warm path across the nervous pewter sea. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn#
From 5th October 2019
The grey mist envelopes the bay in a soft blanket. It combines with the steady, reassuring susurration of the waves to make the morning somehow comforting and I am glad to be walking in it. I can add to my haul of Autumn flowers with Herb Robert and the mass of catkins on the hazel bush. Of course, the gorse is always in flower (when the gorse is in flower it’s kissing time again) and fills the fresh air with a distinctive coconut odour.
From 5th October 2011
Just the tap tap of the blinds at the open window and beyond, in the darkness, the roar of the surf.
4th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The strange looking fruit of the Strawberry Tree
A grey day like today may, at first sight, appear dull and uninspiring but there is a brisk wind that makes a soft roar in the tree tops and ruffles up the waves on the sea so that they descend on the beach in a continuous rushing sound. Everyting is building strength for next year. Ivy is glossy and green clawing up the rough bark of the pines while the white flowers of the strawberry tree are already blossoming whilst this year’s strange fruit are still ripening. Crows enjoy the wind and caw and croak whilst they sway among the pine branches.
From 4th October 2019
A pale blue sky edged with friendly looking grey clouds give a softness to the morning light. The moisture on the wet grass provides a sheen as if from standing water. The air is crisp and the sea has assumed a gentler, more rhythmic beat to the waves that are being enjoyed by a pair of surfers on the otherwise deserted beach. The sand is flat and clean after the storm. Pigeons, gulls and crows flock together with occasional squirrels, all too busy searching for breakfast to make any sound. The mass of brambles is beaten down and a greyish, defeated colour but shouldering through are teasels and the vivid chocolate brown sorrels and docks showing that not everything is crushed by the autumn weather. And to emphasise the point many tiny plants are coming into flower, groundsel and yarrow and other, indeterminate, yellow members of the daisy and carrot family. And brightest of all the sharp pink oxalis lining the path.
3rd October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
To the east, the sun is breaking through the streaks and gobs of purple cloud but the bay is polished grey blue.
The dawn air is cold and clear. The grass is heavy with dew. Pigeons and gulls wander around wondering what the day will bring. To the east, the sun is breaking through the streaks and gobs of purple cloud but the bay is polished grey blue. Fishing boats dot the mirror smooth waters and one or two dark distant figures are paddle boarders enjoying the dawn. There is a breath of chilly breeze. The areas where the grass has not recolonised yet are a mass of tiny dark wormcasts.
From 3rd October 2021
In a matter of minutes the puffy fair weather clouds in the blue sky to the West were replaced by a rolling mass of weather. A sharp wind sprang up and the rain swept in. Gulls and pigeons huddled on the warm roof of a sea front restaurant. The crows seem to be masters of this weather and seem not to mind being buffeted about. A pigeon which met its doom on the path has been picked clean to the bones by magpies this morning.
From 3rd October 2019
The rain sweeps across the street lamp beam in big horizontal curtains. The sea is breaking far out and marching to the beach in long, raking waves. The continuous sibilant roar combines with the sound of the bobbing, thrashing trees to make a din that is on the threshold of needing ear defenders. Leaves of laurel and rhododendron are polished silver by the rain and dance and sparkle in the street lights. Pine needles are thick underfoot making a carpet as soft and springy as an expensive Axminster. A youngish guy, bareheaded and jacket open, is standing watching the weaving shadows of the branches in the gale. He has a beer bottle in each hand. “Not the night to be out.” I say from the depths of my waterproofs. “Oh it is. It is.” He says laughing. I am delighted someone is enjoying the night as much as I am.
From 3rd October 2016
Tonight, my walk on the West Cliff seems to invoke a strange feeling of restlessness and irresolution. The sea is fretting at the shore, turning over the lines of surf as if anxiously considering some problem set much farther out to sea. The chill, blustery wind makes stopping to survey the scene uncomfortable and out across the bay, the glittering lights of the Barfleur and other, smaller, vessels, seem to move hesitantly towards the shore. Above, the stars and galaxies glitter in cold splendour against a darkness that extends on up for ever.
2nd October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The afternoon shadows are long and lovers linger along the fences gazing at the horizon.
The day seems to be playing games with the inhabitants of the West Cliff Green. A steady downpour all morning and a buffeting wind. Puddles dapple with raindrops all along the paths. Pigeons and small birds gather round the edges of the puddles forming on the green like impala round a water hole on the African Savannah. The waves rolling in are a surfer’s delight.
And then, as if at a whim, the grey rolls away, the wind drops and despite the gloomy forecast, the sun beats down out of a blue sky smudged with wispy white clouds. The afternoon shadows are long and lovers linger along the fences gazing at the horizon.
From October 2nd 2021
The rain deluged down in torrents. The wind howled through the tree tops. The sea danced about in excitement roaring and thumping. At first people ran and scurried but as soon as they realised they were already soaked through, they sauntered and strolled through the torment. Girls in short skirts and tiny leather jackets stood in doorways, perplexed by the magnitude of events. Men in shorts and t shirts pretended they hadn't even noticed the rain.
From October 2nd 2014
a clear, quiet evening and a neap tide but there be a big swell breaking high up on the beach. There be some heavy weather brewing in the western approaches you mark my words.
From October 2nd 2011
Three swims today. Hope the rest of the summer is going to be as good.
1st october from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The blue sky is decorated with odd shaped white clouds.
Residents of the Green, both permanent and temporary, always comment on the sky and how much it effects their mood. After the storms last night, the grey clouds break up. The sun shines through the the trees with summer warmth and there is a gentle breeze. The blue sky is decorated with odd shaped white clouds. There is a reassuring thump and hiss from the gentle swell on the beach. Summer is having one last hurrah. But then broken slabs of grey return and gloom settles in for the afternoon. A pair of robins are sparring on the fence, squaring up for the big fight later.
From 1st October 2021
This morning, big glassy waves thumped and grumbled on the beach, Charcoal coloured clouds heaped up row upon row and a blustery chilly wind propelled us along the clifftop. By this evening the sky was clear and cloudless and the sea corrugated with tiny ripples. Hello October.
From 1st october 2019
After my usual walk back along the cliff top (the waves are longer and more regular with a definite rhythm to their breaking. The breeze is not cold) I decide to return a longer way past the small hotels that line the main road. A man is singing through a hand-held microphone “Oobla-di Oobla-da”. The walls of the room are bare and his audience is a small group of non-plussed elderly folk. “Oobla-di Oobla-da”. At the next a single man stands in the car park smoking. He does not return my nod. Further along there is a whole gaggle of smokers on the pavement. As I turn into our road I can hear a baby crying in an hotel room. “Life goes on, Bra.”
From 1st October 2011
Hmm, October. Better get out the wellingtons and the thick woolly jumpers.... Oh no its another day in swimming shorts on the beach.
30th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
And then a thumping equinoctial gale blew in…
The first day with any real sense of autumn. A misty start and some early sun but then the cold wind picks up and the rain begins to lash down. The sound of the surf and the wind in the trees provide a hushed rumbling background sound These days, the changes of the season are demonstrated less by the colour of the leaves or the weather but by the demeanour of the walkers on the West Cliff. A few days ago, people were still optimistic about the weather in shorts and tee shirts, even though it may have been colder and wetter, but now raincoats have been dug out and they seem to have resigned themselves to the long haul. On the path, a pair of first winter pied wagtails are sauntering and bobbing along. Now and then one darts ahead but they never move far apart. A raggedy fall of migrating martins tumble over the cliff. And then a thumping equinoctial gale blew in.
Equinoctial gale on the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
From September 30th 2021
A strong blustery wind bringing with it fine drizzle and heavier persistent rain. The horizon closes in and the sea roars to itself on the lonely sands. Odd scraps that look like pieces of torn bin bag turn out to be the ragged shapes of crows being tossed about by the gale.
From September 30th 2015
I always associate the cry of the owl with deep woodland but here in our urban seaside environment there is a pair of tawny owls keeping up their mournful dialogue. Plenty of prey on the cliffs and plenty of cover in the chines.
I can just make out "Lord Nelson" and "Tenacious" sailing togather on the horizon. Magnificent sight. Reminds me of Hardy's description of "Victory" disappearing from view on the way to Cadiz in "The Trumpet Major"
29th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
There is even a last pink sweet pea of summer among the dry grasses on the cliff.
Despite a couple of weeks of drizzly days with off and on sunshine and a chilly breeze, this long summer seems reluctant to let go. Today when the bubbly mountains of cloud bump aside, the sun is warm, the sea is blue and pigeons coo in a sleepy manner. There are only a few yellow leaves among the green on the sweet chestnuts and most of the herbage is lush where it is busy recovering from the drought. There is even a last pink sweet pea of summer among the dry grasses on the cliff.
The last sweet pea of summer on the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
From 29th September 2012
A few, very few, gold braided fair weather clouds on the distant horizon, as sharp and straight as the creases in an airman's trousers. The sky is as blue and vast as he might want to ascend into for ever.
28th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The West Cliff Green Murder Mystery
The West Cliff Green Murder Mystery
A day of sharp showers and grey drizzle between the occasional sunny spells. The sort of day to stay indoors, put on your warmest onesie and listen to a Murder Mystery story. Those of you who are new to this site may be astonished to learn of the horrible West Cliff Green Murder Mystery. Yes, there really is one. And there were not one, not two but three victims of some killer drill wielding maniac. But let us start from the beginning.
Back in the days of the Old Queen, 2016 it was. March of that year. A time when Donald Trump was yet to come to power, the Arctic Ice Cap began to melt and Boris Johnson ruled himself out as a candidate for the Prime Minister. Residents of the West Cliff noticed the foliage on two of the venerable pines was beginning to die back. Within a few weeks these magnificent relics from an earlier age were practically bare of green needles and appeared in a sorry brown state. The Council, for once, were quick to react and Forensic Scientists were called in. Their findings were horrifying. Holes had been drilled in the trunk and a substance, later identified as glyphosate was poured in. Arboralists did would they could in the form of first aid by plugging the holes which they estimated had been made sometime in June the year before. And then a third pine began to die. It was evident that a maniac was on the loose.
A climate of fear set in. Would there be more murders? What could be done? Brows were furrowed, Heads were shaken, tuts were tutted, theories advanced and fingers were pointed. The police were called in but despite there best efforts no evidence could be found that would lead to the culprits.
There were stirrings in the community that could have led to civil unrest. “They must not be allowed to get away with it.” But no one knew who “They” were. And then the Council did a very wise thing. In the place where the ancient pines had braved the wind and died the council planted six young saplings. If someone had hoped to increase their property value by clearing the view to the sea they were in for a sad come-uppance. A cctv camera was installed and a stout wire fence. Nevertheless one of the saplings was, in its turn, attacked but the other five are still there, proudly nodding in the breeze and the Wst Cliff Tree Murderer has never been heard of again. The fence has been removed but the residents keep a sharp look out for suspicious types carrying drills and packets of weed killer.
From 28th September 2021
A big wind. Lumpy sky. The sea makes a roar and a hiss like an autumn bonfire burning applewood. A refreshing and revivifying air that smells of new things.
From 28th September 2019
Railway modellers can bring apparent reality to a scene by including lots of tiny details that may go unnoticed in the ordinary run of things. Our world is made up of the trivial and the inconsequential, but these are the things that make it a solid reality. Sometimes the big things, the really big things disappear into the background and do not impinge on our day to day existence. I like to notice the trivial and inconsequential. An empty packet of jaffa cakes on the path outside, the way the dawn light catches a row of benches and turns them into an art work, the way the flowerless fronds of willowherb bend in a perfect arc, the way the surf on the beach is illuminated by the pale yellow dawn, the way wrens criss-cross the path at shoe height but can only be glimpsed from the corner of your eye, the voice of the crow. And for all of you who might know such things, is there a saint of the Trivial and Inconsequential and where can I find his or her shrine?
From 28th September 2013
When the sun breaks through the grey cloud it is quite warm enough to sit out on the clifftop. Sheltered from the breeze and the sea mist it is pleasant enough for a few minutes contemplation. The path is covered with the broken green urchins of the sweet chestnuts. The squirrels are having a field day. Under the corsican pines a soft carpet of their long brown double needles deadens the sound of the distant surf. Later Long raking breakers surging in across the bay. A stiff breeze and a watery afternoon sun. It feels electric.
From 28th September 2011
The sky is a cloudless pale blue, the sea is nearly indigo, the pine trees are dark green on the clifftop. This could be the mediterranean
27th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Whitened and smoothed by the wind and the cliff top weather. Now it stands, at once, forlorn in the cold drizzle but somehow indomitable.
An early burst of sunshine gives way to a steady drizzle from dull, grey clouds and a cold wind. Standing among the row of Holm oaks at the North of the Green is one for which life has proved varied and, perhaps, disconcerting. At some point it has been coppiced to ground level and has grown up through branchlets to be many trunked. And then it has been cut back again sharply. This time to above human head height. And somewhen subsequent to that it has died. But the story has not ended. The bare trunks have stood there for a considerable time. They have been whitened and smoothed by the wind and the cliff top weather. Now it stands, at once, forlorn in the cold drizzle but somehow indomitable. As though it quite intends to be here for ever. A monument to itself. A sculpture of all trees and all the people who have, at one time or another, sheltered beneath its boughs.
West Cliff Gardens #Westcliffgardens #westcliffgreen #Bournemouth
From September 27th 2021
At last we have had some weather. Torrential rain last night accompanied by big winds that rattled the doors in the building. By dawn the skies were clearing but the strong breeze kept up all day to the delight of the wind surfers. The big grey waves settled on the sand with a roar. Later a mass of dark cloud dragged huge curtains of rain out of the west and as they cleared away a big double rainbow surrounded the bright white Polar Bear on the end of the Isle of Wight. Gulls paddled in the shallows. For a short while there were clear blue skies with puffs of fair weather cloud until the grey rain clouds trundled up again. And so it continues into the evening.
From September 27th 2019
I would never have the temerity to describe myself as a flaneur. To me that implies a certain sort of urban, or at least social, wandering. I consider myself more of an ambler or a saunterer and these days I am mostly a seaside idler. It’s how I write. Today, after the excitement of the twin bin lorry visits (see UPDATES elsewhere) I am free to luxuriate in the still dark clifftop world. The breeze is as boisterous as a young puppy while the sea still growls away at the foot of the cliffs. Pale scuds of clouds hide and then reveal the enormous constellation of Orion and his companions high over the bay. The bright planets of Jupiter and Saturn are still wending their way across the ecliptic. The clifftop foliage is mostly composed of the tall dry spikes of summer flowers but most of the trees and bushes are still in full leafage that rattles and sighs in the breeze. A tiny pinprick of light overhead denotes the passage of a plane heading for Heathrow. I have a glimmer of fellow feeling for the good people of Raleigh Durham Even if I haven’t a clue where Raleigh Durham is. For a few seconds we are here together at this pre-dawn reality. The moon is a final waning thumbnail and I am reminded of the old country saying “Moon on her back, water in her lap”, and, sure enough at that moment it starts to rain.
26th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Cats ears seem to be the first flowers to have colonised the short grass after the drought.
The wind is singing in the treetops. Prickly cases of sweet chestnuts litter the path. V shaped needles flutter down like snow from the Scots pines. There is little swell on the sea but the waves seem to be hurrying to the shore. When the sun brushes aside a space it is warm but the clouds are quick to rush back. Curtains of rain hang on the horizon to west and east. Pigeons puff up their feathers and stand around as if uncertain what to do next. A robin tries out its winter song from the shelter of a bush. Cats ears seem to be the first flowers to have colonised the short grass after the drought.
From 26th September 2021
A pic'n'mix sort of day. Grey skies and autumn fog over the bay this morning but with the cloud breaking up so that by early afternoon there were ragged patches of blue and it became quite hot. The grey green waves swashed onto the beach in regulation fashion. A regatta of small boats scurried about arounfd Old Harry. Helicopters droned to and fro over head. But then bits and bobs of clouds pressed together into louring dark skies and a snappy breeze before sunset.
From 26th September 2017
The soft dawn vignetted with pale mist. A Golden Wonder of crisp leaves in orange swathes underfoot. A plume of seagulls streaming behind the tractor as it barks distant across the field putting the stubble to rest under the plough. Nature and hard work have given the increase and now is the time for enjoying the fruit. Autumn is the time for preparation, planning and planting and as a child growing up on farms there was always an air of expectation. A time for looking forward. And even now I greet September as the time for new projects, new excitements, for dreams and new imaginings.
From 26th September 2015
Victorian postcards of Bournemouth show the cliffs to be bare slumps of sand, clay and gravel. This morning the peachy dawn light picks out the mass of greenery of all shades that has colonised them since. The predominant species seems to be holm oak with its grey green permanent foliage, then sweet chestnut, still glossy in september. There's apple and, of course, dark mediterranean pine. The steeper slopes are covered with gorse, bramble and orange brown bracken. Little bright spots of red show where honeysuckle knits it all together.
25th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
West Cliff Green is a space between. Between the town and the sand. Between the sea and the sky, the cliff and the air.
West Cliff Green is a space between. Between the town and the sand. Between the sea and the sky, the cliff and the air. It is the territory of gulls and of pigeon and crows. It is a liminal space limited only by those who frequent it. By the walkers and joggers, the wayfarerers and the wasters, the wellness fanatics, the readers and the runners. Those who see it from their buggies for the first time or the last. Those who are wealthy in years and those whose wealth is in time. There are memories that run between the Raj and the New Caroleans. It is place before and beyond. Between despair and hope. Of life and death and the madness between. And now the liminal is the time between summer and autumn. Between Here and Now. A not time when the year stands still and holds its breath.
From 25th September 2021
A dead grey sky and a breze freshening towards the evening. Green waves turning over gently onto the sand. There are still flowers to be found in sheltered places. Looking a little tired, perhaps, but still clinging on. Mallow, Rosebay Willow Herb and the twinkling bright blue of the baorage flowers against their big reptilian leaves. The sun sets due west so all the big apartment blocks on the East Cliff orientated East West suddenly flash and glare with brilliant orange light as it makes a brief appearance beneath the cloud cover leaving long smudges and streaks of pink and magenta as the lights on the prom begin to prickle on.
From 25th September 2015
The fisherman is doing well. He is standing in the back of his rowing boat surrounded by a cloud of gulls like St Francis and the creatures of the air. The magpies and pigeons have the grass to themselves. A trio of cauliflowers, white, pink and blue chortle and wave their walking sticks to elderly men passing in the other direction. They are here to enjoy themselves. A small girl walks neatly along the footpath her white dog is pin sharp and breathing the whole of the dawn. Under the trees a gentleman tries to suck every last ounce of warmth from his dew sodden sleeping bag. We acknowledge each other's presence in the world by a little hand gesture. Such is the early morning traffic of the West Cliff.
24th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Trees were planted in the early twentieth century and they have formed a much less formal environment
A broken biscuit sky and a snappy wind gives way to a bright sunshiney afterrnoon. And with the light reflected off the mirror sea it becomes extremely hot. But by late afternoon, the clouds have ordered themselves into a more conventional arrangement and it feels cold once more. Whatever the weather, the trees of the West Cliff are there to give shelter and solace to the world-weary. When Bournemouth was created, the rather industrial landscape of gravel workings and alum mines was planted over with pine trees whose resinous odour was intended to add to the health giving properties of the sea air. On the West Cliff a large, circular walk of pines was planted. That has long gone to be replaced by the short grass but more trees were planted in the early twentieth century and they have formed a much less formal environment where the delicate tracery of branches against the sky is as breath taking as in any cathedral.
From 24th September 2021
The sun pulling itself up into the clear dawn air makes such a glare off the water that I can hardly see the path ahead and have to shade my eyes to stop bumping into early morning joggers and strollers. A heavy dew shines and shimmers off the blackberry leaves. A crow makes its position known from its vantage point at the top of a pine tree. A wren sings lustily from a gorse bush. As the day builds, the warmth grows and a fine autumn day is promised.
From 24th September 2013
Beautiful afternoon on the beach. As warm as it's been all summer. Was that the last swim of the year? No, we still have October to go.
23rd September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Some flowering plants are attempting to make up for the summer drought. There is honeysuckle and a second crop of blackberries swelling nicely.
Rain, rain rain. It ceases as the day light increases. A grey drizzly dawn. Water dripping from every surface. But then, despite the forecast, the sun struggles out from behind the streaky grey clouds and dry patches begin to appear on the paths. Faint shadows accompany the walkers. One or two bright puddles dance across the wrinkling sea. The breeze sings in the tree tops. Some flowering plants are attempting to make up for the summer drought. There is honeysuckle and a second crop of blackberries swelling nicely.
From 23rd September 2021
Another middling sort of day. Still warm but stern grey cloud cover and a steady breeze with occasional smattering of rain. The sea is fidgety and pecks at the virtually empty sands. And adult and juvenile woodpigeonn sat side by side on a branch unmoving, surveying the scene. Another pigeon half heartedly mobs a kestrel..Last night a tawny owl flew right by my window hooting as it went.
From 23rd September 2019
We are beset by the proverbial equinoctial gales. The trees, still carrying their full burden of summer foliage, groan and thrash like tethered dancing bears. A fine mist slants across the street lights but it is not rain now but a fine sea spray blown up and over the cliffs from the raging torment below.
22nd September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
But the sky is not as flat as it appears at first sight.
Flat and grey. Still warm, though. A breeze ripples the sea. But the sky is not as flat as it appears at first sight. It is compose of a patchwork of colours: white, grey, charcoal. mauve, pink. The horizon is a clean, straight line that emphasise the ragtag dressing up box of streaks and blobs. The horizon represents a highway along which the container ship Fortaleeza makes her way from Southampton to Cork. She looks tiny but she is there out on the Channel. A lone gull completes the picture.
From 22nd September 2021
The air is fresh and crisp for the Autumn Equinox and a thick mist hangs over the harbour mouth. Occasional distant fog horns carry though the still morning. The sea is as calm as I've ever seen it and the sky is a pure, clear blue. A lady sits straight backed on the grass live streaming her meditations to the world.
From 22nd September 2015
A chill wind and a restless sea. The sun rises pale lemon yellow behind thin veils of grey. A single unbroken band of cloud stretches from the far west beyond the Purbeck Hills along the line of the horizon to the Isle of Wight. The clouds puff and heap into the sheer blue morning like a a twenty mile jumble of teddy bears and other soft toys touched by the dawn.