28th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A great shelf of cloud stretching right across from south west to north east so that the sky is divided sharply in two with clear blue sky on one side and thick cloud to the other.
A great shelf of cloud stretching right across from south west to north east so that the sky is divided sharply in two with clear blue sky on one side and thick cloud to the other. When the sun appears through the cloud it is warm but there is still a sneaking cold wind keeping everything honest. The sea humps up into long swells the crash onto the beach with a roar. Someone has picked the daffodills but there is a dense patch of celandines on the opposite side of the path that makes up along with the bank of violets.
From 28th February 2022
A fine, steady rain from a flat tin-plate sky. The wind is from the south; not as cold or as strong as in the past few days but strong enough to drift the rain across the West Cliff and soak into clothes. The grey green sea rushes on in its laboured way. Crows sit hunched against the weather on their look out posts. A fat pigeon flutters up to a fence post, misses its mark and tumbles off down the cliff pretending that's exactly what it meant to do. The coats of the goats are thick and weatherproof and the rain runs off in big drops. The goats themselves are busy at work among the brambles. A couple of visitors from Wales fall into conversation about the goats at Llandudno. I show them where Sandbanks is in the distant murk. They want to know if harry Rednapp still lives there. And I tell them how difficult it is to learn Welsh. They laugh and continue on their rain soaked holiday. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February #goats
From 28th February 2021
The sun slants in bright and clear, renewing everything with a pale straw light and casting long, dark shadows. The sky is still untroubled by clouds as it has been for a couple of days now. But there is a sharp chill wind and there is an icing of frost in the shadows and pockets. A small family huddle on the beach, coats buttoned up listening to the reassuring lapping of the surf. I exchange nods with the Council Litter Man who is chasing the rubbish that the gulls have strewn across the path and say "Thank You". A silent cyclist passes and disappears into the glare of the sunrise.
From 28th February 2020
The ferocity of the storm on the West Cliff is dictated by the direction it comes in from across the bay. Today it is head on and the squalls race up the cliff with a slap on the face of the freezing needles of rain. The noise of the sea is a continuous sibilant roar that I have heard before from the blast furnaces of steel works in the North. But this is Dante's last circle of hell. The breath of this beast is intensely cold.
27th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
At the appointed hour the sun bursts up and onto its day’s splendid course.
A sharp, white frost and a sharper wind from the North East. It is very cold but the sky is perfectly clear and palest of blues except for a fringe of purple cloud on the horizon. At the appointed hour the sun bursts up and onto its day’s splendid course. The orange light is sudden and strong casting long shadows along the path and through the branches of the trees, The sea shivers and trembles and sprawls on the sand in sharp glassy-green waves. A party of pigeons, unaware that they are crowned with gold in the dawn light, move together along the frosted grass looking for breakfast.
From 27th February 2022
The din from the boiling surf is enormous and continuous. It is like a mighty eight mile long factory whose one product is making noise from pure energy. Which is exactly what it is. The wind is extremely cold and penetrating but for all that, the sun is shining strongly in an untroubled blue sky. The main news today concerns our small herd of fluffy coated goats that are here to keep the vegetation on the cliffs down and reduce the chance of landslips. Welcome to George, Gordon, Henry, Hercules, Horatio, Hulk & Hakim.At the moment they are not quite in the enclosure on the Green but they are nearby opposite the Marriott Hotel. They look slightly bewildered by their new surroundings but they are already proving a hit with camera wielding visitors and they appear quite sanguine about things in general. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #February #springisonitsway
From 27th February 2021
Jenny Wren sings out from her hiding place in the ilex tree. Her voice is as clear and bold and bright as the day. The sky is intensely blue and reflects of the gently rippling water of the bay. Little boats dash hither and thither leaving silver zig zag wakes. The air is still fresh and crisp but the sun beams up off the water with a glare of heat. Daisies pepper the grass and a single gull hangs on an updraft. Unmoving, surveying the world below.
Later
The sky to the west fades to dusty rose, and washes of apricot and purple. Blackbirds and thrushes skirl in the gathering darkness. The sea grumbles to itself. And then the great orange face of the moon peers quizzically through the angular black branches of the pines. "I can see you." She says. "What are you doing out so late? This is my time now. You should be in having your tea." And so I am.
From 27th February 2018
The Beast from the East is prowling the street. Howling in the trees. Rolling on the grass.
26th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sun rises into a clear blue sky tufted with little white clouds at the edges.
The sun rises into a clear blue sky tufted with little white clouds at the edges. It is bitterly cold as the sky clouds over and even when the sun appears again after Noon it does little to warm things up. The sea is agitated but not rough. A great tit amusing himself in a bare tree flitting from branch to branch. Each time he flies he utters his distinctive two note call in groups of four and five and finishing on the same note he started on. Thus: duh dit, duh dit, duh dit, duh dit, duh. Bird identifying books always give this as Teacher, teacher,teacher, teacher but I think that can be misleading if you’re not familiar. Just stand and listen.
From 26th February 2022
Another day with a bone-biting, finger-numbing icy wind. Yet the sun burns down brilliantly from a clear sky. Walkers hurry by briskly coat collars and hoods up. One or two hardy couples try to picnic in the sunshine. The surf is broken and froths into a creamy lather with a continuous rushing sound. Gulls circle in the empty sky calling plaintively. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 26th February 2021
The air is clear and sharp. The navy blue night seems to go on for ever. I can see every single pinprick of light on the Western side of the Isle of Wight. Ships passing out in the Channel and every single marker and leading light in the bay. The moon is bright as a searchlight but the night is so clear I can see all the stars in the Southern sky. The brightest tonight seems to be the Little Dog Procyon, hard and brilliant, high in the Southern sky. Orion is wheeling away and fading towards the sunset meaning Spring is here.
From 26th February 2020
A searching, chill wind with little patches of overnight snow. But the sun comes up in a bright orange ball and the birds are giving it their springtime best. Good to hear the wheezy call of the greenfinches among the blackbirds, thrushes and robins.
From 26th February 2018
Snowing on the West Cliff. Proper snow.
From 26th February 2017
The street lights reflect off the rain-slick empty road. Twigs and leaves litter the pavement. A solitary car suddenly swishes past. The wind gusts so that I can hardly make progress through it. Sea state - moderate to rough. Fastnet, Dogger, Rockall. And now, before close down - "Sailing By".
25th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
any sign of spring has melted away except for the very first daffodil in the shelter of the pines on the Barrow earthworks.
The wind is still biting and there is no sight of the sun today. Occasional little squalls of cold rain. The sea is slate grey green and nudges up and down the sand carelessly. Robins are singing from every bush and any sign of spring has melted away except for the very first daffodil in the shelter of the pines on the Barrow earthworks.
From 25th February 2022
The yellow gorse flowers stand out brilliantly against a clear blue sky dotted with fair weather cumulus clouds. The wind is icy from the North West but the sun is strong in sheltered spots. The straight lines of surf curl over and thump onto the beach sending up a fine white spray that is whisked away by the breeze. A crow barks from the short grass. The mass of violets and daisies are joined by clumps of daffodils and snowdrops. Little splashes of purple and orange reveal where crocuses are hiding. There are a few early green-striped white bells of the three-sided leeks which are our version of wild garlic. A robin sings high in an ilex tree. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 25th February 2019
Do you remember when food stylists could get away with spraying a good inch of shaving foam on top of a pint of beer which the advertising matter would then describe as "creamy"/ And you might get a shot of a row of men standing at a bar an inch wide strip of glutinous foam across their top lips and with their creamy pints in hand, pinkies cocked like a row of elderly ladies drinking tea at the vicarage. Well, the sea was like that this afternoon. Creamy, I mean, not any of the other stuff. I've not seen it like that before. It wasn't the sort of fairy foam you get at the tide's edge in a storm but a definite rich - well - cream. Tonight, everything's back to cool lager freshness.
From 25th February 2017
It's what we old sea dogs call a filthy night. The cold wind whipping up the fine drizzle that dances on your cheeks. Row upon row of small broken waves ghost in from the darkness. The streetlamps stretch away into the night forlorn because the promenade is quite deserted. The coloured lights on the pier put on a brave show but I think I'll give it a miss tonight.
24th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
gulls are determined to carry on with their plans for the future and try to establish their bona fides with members of the opposite sex.
A sombre day to spend by the sea. Visitors wrap up well in coats and scarves. The wind is razor sharp. The grey sea is anxious. But gulls are determined to carry on with their plans for the future and try to establish their bona fides with members of the opposite sex. This often results in little skirmishes and a lot of running backwards and forwards: “She’s mine.” “No, she’s mine.” “I saw her first.” At first the female looks on with some interest but then flies off as neither meets her expectations. Mid afternoon and a sudden icy cloudburst puts a stop to any shenanigans.
From 24th February 2022
The rambunctious cold wind rattles the metal sign attached to the lamppost. The torn strips of red and white tape surrounding the broken tree branch stream out like fronds of strange underwater kelp fronds. The sun shines brightly in a clear blue sky except when the big mountains of grey cloud sail across its face. Earlier I counted three or four greenfinches in the clifftop gorse. Just now I heard two more in an ilext tree. Still difficult to believe they are becoming rarer. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 24th February 2021
The wind is still strong coming up from the south and driving the sea up the beach in intricate broken curls which appear like banks of daisies. There is a yellow cast to the early light. The sun is imprisoned behind rows of parallel bars of grey cloud which become edged with gold before melting into one another. A tiny grey green bird hurtles over the gorse. It is unmistakably a warbler but whether it is an overwintering chiff chaff or a very early visiting willow warbler I'm not close enough to see. Either way we will see more of these early visitors as the climate changes. A tall meadow buttercup is lording it over the short grass.
23rd February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The birds are too busy to entertain us this morning and the sycamore tree is resolutely maintaining it is still winter.
A spiteful cold wind from the North east under a grey sky. From time to time the sun opens his front door and peers through but very quickly retreats inside and slams it shut. The sea provides a single, continuous careworn swoooosh. A man in a bright yellow puffer jacket sits hunched staring at the trees in the chine. The birds are too busy to entertain us this morning and the sycamore tree is resolutely maintaining it is still winter.
From 23rd February 2022
The sun has only appeared intermittently through the cracks in the cloud. The wind blows in horizontally and cold from the South West. The day seems flat and two dimensional. But sometimes I forget the vertical elements. I have mentioned the different types of bark on the pines but today I noticed the walls that edge the green in places. These form a busy, thriving habitat. All sorts of plants take root in the deeper crevices - dandelions and their close relations. Veronica and later, valerian. And in the shallower gaps dark green moss. Soon, this will provide a soft lining for the nests of the birds in the nearby bushes. This in turn is a home for myriads of little creepy-crawlies that will provide food for those birds. Also here is a place to hide for many different kinds of snails. Inpast ages people would eat these onFridays when meat was forbidden. The church, accommodating as ever, classified snails as fish and, to this day, in many dialects they are called WallFish. Later in the spring we will see lizards clinging to the stones, enjoying sunny days. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 23rd February 2021
A cold wind as brisk as a village school mistress chivvying he charges into class after a boisterous playtime. Ragged grey, white and purple clouds are draped across the Wedgwood blue morning sky. The sun bursts through and for a moment everything is edged with a brilliant yellow gold. The sea is white capped and mischievous and the bushes are brought alive by the bird of the week, the dunnock which suddenly has appeared everywhere. This unassuming bird used to be called a hedge sparrow but it has a charming presence with black marks against a chestnut brown back and a stylish grey throat. It's song is clear and melodious and fills out the well established dawn chorus. .
22nd February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
It is impossible to be out without being fascintated by the vast cloudscape.
Heavy overnight rain ceased by morning and the grey cloud cover begins to brighten up. Today is all about clouds. It is impossible to be out without being fascintated by the vast cloudscape. Overhead, black grey and white in delicate puffs, mad swirls and apparently solid lumps. Lower down on the horizon bright white streaks.The whole glorious display back lit by the sun which can’t quite make it out but which throws the huge dynamic sky into sharp relief. Come on, let’s jump in and wallow in their bigness.
From 22nd February 2022
Bulging grey cumulus clouds sail majestically across the blue sky and in front of the sun. In an instant the air is chill and a cold wind seems to spring up. But as soon as they move aside the sun's warm honey rays drip across the corrugated bark of the corsican pines. The well behaved waves make a soothing backdrop of sound to the day. A pigeon, it's crop full sits uncomfortbly on a fence post, no doubt pausing until it can start feeding again. A small group of visitors amble along the clifftop path their brightly coloured anoraks picked out against the green grass. The hydraulic pump on the auger drill boring the foundations of the new block add a pleasant whine to the chirruping of sparrows in a nearby bush. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 22nd February 2012
A luminous orange bubble swells up from behind the long, low grey mass of the Isle of Wight. Pink and gold streamers flash out across the horizon and it becomes difficult to sea where sea and sky meet. The sun drifts on upwards and within ten minutes it has disappeared behind the grey cloud cap. A single tern beats along the wave edge. The cold wind pummels my face like an overenthusiastic guard waking a sleepy passenger at the end of the line.
21st February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The birds are all busy with their spring preparations.
A drizzly grey dawn and a fresh breeze. And although the precipitation stops it carries on feeling damp all day. The little waves are rhythmic and gentle. The birds are all busy with their spring preparations. A magpie flies across the green carrying a stick twice as long as himself. A few minutes later he crosses back in the opposite direction and, later still, flies into a tree still carrying the bounty. If this is a wooing present then it looks as though he’s trying to impress a number of ladies at once. A pair of dunnocks flirt and chase each other along the clifftop and pigeons coo from nearly every tree. Gulls circle keeping an eye on everything happening below.
From 21st February 2022
The wind has wound down but is still as brisk and energetic as a primary school classroom assistant. It is as refreshing as playtime and the sound it makes in the treetops is calm and reassuring instead of grumpy and threatening. The sun bursts through between the trees. It is half term and little family groups play on the beach or wander about the clifftop stopping for improvised picnics on the benches. Spring brings out the builders who are busy on any number of projects on the WestCliff. Distant voices and hammering is carried down on the breeze from the scaffolding. A crow, feathers ruffling, surveys the scene with a dark eye. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 21st February 2021
A grey filmy dawn. Corners smudged by mist. But it's light in the sky so maybe a good day ahead. The overnight rain has made deep black puddles which mirror the sky. Little patters of rain pick at their surface. Crows and and a few gulls wander aimlessly as if waiting for something to happen. A pigeon sidles along the rail just in front of me but as I get nearer his bravery deserts him and he tumbles off down the cliff. A pied wagtail skitters along the path and then flies up onto a bench to watch me pass. Two young people are playing badminton in the mist. A ship's siren sounds from the harbour. The rest of the soundscape is filled with the growing dawn chorus of the resident birds.
From 21st February 2016
Heavy grey cloud and a brisk wind whisking through the pine tops. The sea is muddy and restless but on the cliff edge swathes of wild garlic contrast with the yellow flowers of the gorse. The black birds and thrushes are beginning to sing all out and are accompanied by the ostinato drumming of a greater spotted woodpecker. Even the pigeons have put on their Sunday best bright white collars and pink vests. Pathside bushes are covered with fat green leaf buds bursting with vitality. Best of all, in the rough grass, a patch of vivid purple violets. Turn around now, spring is on its way.
From 21st February 2011
The rain has stopped. Now the fog is creeping inland, writhing round the pines on the clifftop and they begin to fade from sight. The fingers of fog are moving up the street towards the town. The grey is soft and clinging and grey is becoming the only colour. The red brick of the buildings opposite is beginning to fade to grey and whisps and streaks of grey cloud are wafting slowly past my window. The day closes in.
20th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Daffodills are nearly ready to burst out.
The breeze is sandpaper sharp and the sky is endlessly grey. The waves chunter at the shore. But on the cliff face all is scurry and busyness. Brush cutters and saws churr and whine. A pile of cut branches are building up beside the path. Half a dozen council operatives are clearing the scrub the goats have not been able to smooth out and a pile of black bin bags show where years of litter, bottles, cartons and footballs have been swept up. Someone has distributed red and yellow tulips further along the clifftop and further still an opened lollipop has been woven into the mesh of the fence. Daffodills are nearly ready to burst out.
From 20th February 2022
The sea is unruly and as noisy as a bunch of teenagers on a bus. Grey swags of low cloud and mist curtain off the horizon. Both the Purbeck Hills and the Isle of Wight have disappeared into the murk. It’s not cold but the wind is rising. A group of pigeons are making little headway into the wind. The gulls are wheeling happily above. Little groups of Sunday walkers huddle on the beach. Blown sand and small dogs chasing round their ankles.
From 20th February 2021
A grey, washed out impressionistic morning. Not unpleasant but somehow at a remove from sharp reality. A sense of detachment pervades. The air is fresh and the sea rushes backwards and forwards as if not quite sure what it should be doing. Jenny Wren lands on the path in front of me and surveys me with a bright black eye , head cocked to one side. Wrens are some of the most common birds here in the UK but we seldom see them, apart from a quick impression as they dart across the path boot high. But today Jenny gives me a moment of her time. She is tiny, fat and homely. Dickens would use her for a model for one of his bustling, wise matronly women, Mrs Fezziwig perhaps. But she has already decided I am not worth bothering with and she is off to busy herself about her chores.
19th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The air is filled with the sounds of finches, robins and blackbirds. Spring seems to be on the way
The long, flat waves rustle gently. The air is cold but the sun shrugs off the streaks and washes of white cloud to glare off the sea and wrm the day. A flight of tits chatter in the bushes and a couple of great tits tee-cher each other backwards and forwards. The air is filled with the sounds of finches, robins and blackbirds. Spring seems to be on the way and people dress from a range that encompasses overcoats to shorts and T-shirts. The pictures of the trees were taken a few minutes apart as the sun rose. No filters.
From 19th February 2022
All day, the weather has been changing. Strong winds but not as wild as yesterday and sudden icy rainstorms interspersed with sunny periods where the sun peeps through the heavy, grey cumulus clouds to polish the surface of the bay. The waves are more organised, marching in upon the shore in regular, straight ranks before throwing themselves onto the sand. But when their is sun, the air is still cold and raw. Yesterday, the gulls were riding out the storm far out to sea. Today, they are enjoying the updraughts from the cliffs. Gulls love the storm and are perfectly made for it. Enjoy their sheer mastery of the air. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #StormEunice #February
From 19th February 2015
The imposing red-brick Edwardian block opposite used to house retired colonels home from a life time service to the Raj or spinster ladies with chests as delicate as cut glass come to breathe in the sea air and wander aimlessly along the pine walks. This morning at six, a crowd of allnighters tumble out through the imposing front doors and scuffle round shouting "Fuck you." "Fuck you." "Fuck you.". None of them look much older than nineteen. They lean on their expensive new cars and spark up. I hope life goes well for them.
18th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
On the green a father has managed to get two kites in the air and is giving the strings to his small children to hold. Child looks nonplussed. It is an age old Saturday morning ritual.
Where the path opens onto the Westcliff Green, I meet a fox. We stare at each other until the fox edges past and over a low wall where cars are parked. The fox is skinny and his holding what looks like an injured paw. I walk back round but he has disappeared and must be lying up somewhere near at hand. After peering under cars I cannot see him. The wind is cold and rushes through the tree tops. The sky is unrelievd grey and the waves are steep and solid on the bay. A little fishing boat is giving its occupant a roller-coaster ride. An old chair, seatless, is dozing in the bushes. On the green a father has managed to get two kites in the air and is giving the strings to his small children to hold. Child looks nonplussed. It is an age old Saturday morning ritual.
From 18th February 2022
By the end of the afternoon the storm has abated to a brisk breeze punctuated by sudden icy squalls. Lines of white horses gallop across the bay, tossing their manes which curl and smoke out behind them before they pound up onto the beach. An enormous storm edges its way across the horizon dragging its thich grey curtains of rain towards the Isl of Wight. Yet, to the north, the sky is clear and pale blue and towards the west a pine tree is silhouetted dramatically against the pale lemon sky where the sun has just set. Stars begin to prickle the darkening firmament. If it wasn't for the cold wind it would be a pleasant spreng evening. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #StormEunice #springisonitsway #February
From 18th February 2021
The wind is fierce and gusty driving icy rain into my face. But the gale is directed up the cliff face from the beach below. At the top it curls over leaving a little quiet passage on the clifftop path itself. A few paces either side of the path and the wind is at full buffeting, rain laden force but here I can walk in comparative tranquility. I take more or less the same route each morning. Not just the routine of of an bewildered old man but this way I can observe change. That's not just "celandines" that are in full flower but the actual celandines I saw coming into bud yesterday. A patch of violets that weren't there before. The acanthus plant that has been shouldering up all winter seems to have been caught by the sub zero temperature last week and the leaves are grey and drooping. And I observe similar changes elsewhere. A level of scaffolding is coming down on the building site. I count the number of EVs parked in the clifftop car park to see how we're doing on climate change. In the past, I have counted up to three. Today there are none.
17th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The bay is polished to a shiny pewter by the sun appearing from behind the lumpy grey clouds.
A bold, blustering wind. The bay is polished to a shiny pewter by the sun appearing from behind the lumpy grey clouds. A single celandine has made its way up through the rough grass by the fence. Crocuses are beginning to appear on the big grassy space. The story is that the Rotarians planted a huge spoked wheel of crocuses some years ago. Unfortunately, over winter the local squirrels discovered this treasure trove of goodies and dug many of them up. When the crocuses eventually emerged in the spring they had been reduced to the shape of an enormous Swastika. There are only a few clumps left now but they do succeed in bringing a little colour to this part of the Green and people, generally, leave them alone.
From 17th February 2022
The breeze is bright and playful and, where there is shelter, it is quite warm.. Spring flowers are taking over the grassy banks. Violets, daisies, dandelions and, if you look carefully among the clumps of foliage, the little sapphire speedwells. All these as well as the mass of gorse and charlock on the cliff edge. The sun breaks through the lumpy clouds and polishes the anxious wave with a brilliant sheen. But there is a coppery mist curtaining the horizon and excited little gusts of wind send up little showers of brown leaves. There is weather on the way. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 17th February 2021
t's not a gale but the wind is blustering, driving sudden icy squalls of rain before it. The day is trying to be a monochrome grey but everywhere there is colour. The rich browns and oranges of last years leaf litter splashed with brilliant multi-toned greens of new growth grass and a particularly eye-catching moss that covers the bare patches. But everywhere is washed over with the golden yellow of the gorse. Sometimes the wind racing through the trees sets the holm-oaks hissing and the pine branches roaring until the din overcomes the crashing surf. The wind gusts and dies back and the sea noise has ascendancy. Then the wind picks up again. I leave the elements fighting it out.
From 17th February 2016
A characterless evening. A steady damp chill in the air. A steady downpour of cold rain. A steady roar from the sea. Still it's wonderful to be out in it.
16th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Tiny spatters of drizzle between the rain storms. The sea rolls in with some purpose.
A gloomy, grey day all day. Tiny spatters of drizzle between the rain storms. The sea rolls in with some purpose. Moisture drips from the twigs and branches of the bushes and trees. The little flowers at the path’s edge are still trying to make a show but they do need looking for. Pigeons coo from the tree tops. Crows and magpies stump about as if fed up with the whole thing.
From 16th February 2022
The breeze is bright and playful and, where there is shelter, it is quite warm.. Spring flowers are taking over the grassy banks. Violets, daisies, dandelions and, if you look carefully among the clumps of foliage, the little sapphire speedwells. All these as well as the nmass of gorse and charlock on the cliff edge. The sun breaks through the lumpy clouds and polishes the anxious wave with a brilliant sheen. But there is a coppery mist curtaining the horizon and excited little gusts of wind send up little showers of brown leaves. There is weather on the way. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 16th February 2016
Sometimes I can manage to make thin slice of the morning and share it with you. But in the end, the words are just crumbs. This morning the dawn is so big, so perfect, the sky so lucent, the chill so biting, the sea so easy that there is nowhere I can slice into it. Go out and enjoy it for yourself in big, invigorating mouths full. It's free and nobody else wants it.
From 16th February 2011
A wrinkled grey sea shot through with darker and lighter streaks. Broken dark grey banks of cloud over a pale sky. Breeze disturbs the lower branches of the pine. Occasional jackdaw tossed across the view by the wind. Monochrome except for the merest wash of pink on the horizon and the palest of gold above a sullen distant cloud clump.
15th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
As the sun gets going, its rays pick out a motor scooter apparently dozing after a hard night out among the trees.
Crisp dawn with a little mist around the horizon. A soft sea. The sun hasn’t reached full strength yet and it still feels cold. Greenfinches are in full wheezy song from the gorse bushes and little parties of them flit along the cliff. Suddenly our resident woodpigeons are back, spread out on the dewy grass. The winter town pigeons seem to have disappeared just as quickly. As the sun gets going, its rays pick out a motor scooter apparently dozing after a hard night out among the trees. It has a Polish number plate. I hope its owner is safe.
From 15th February 2022
The sort of day that should feel bleak and miserable. The rain is slanting in across the bay being driven by a sharp, unforgiving wind. But we are far enough into the year for the sun to have climbed higher in the sky at noon and the clouds shine with a cheerful luminosity, polishing the paths with a silver sheen. Dry white leaves from the ilex trees race and rattle along under the swaying pines. The crows wander about the short grass while one of their number keeps a sharp lookout. A greenfinch wheezes and a gull hangs motionless on the gale. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 15th February 2021
It's not cold and it's no longer raining but it's still a grey, gluey sort of day as if a celestial child has spilt cold porage all over it. The surf is busy and broken but already there is a line of Volkswagen Transporters with blacked out windows. These are the preferred transport for surfers .One girl is already on her way home, her board lodged over the rear seats of her little Toyota. Her hair hangs in damp ringlets and her cheeks glow pink. A jogger passes me, his massive muscled legs straining against his tight jogging pants. His body is a temple supported on pillars of marble. I have never thought of my body as a temple; more an abandoned Non-conformist chapel of the sort you see clinging to the side of every Welsh valley. The floorboards creak and there is a musty smell from the pile of decaying, long unopened hymnbooks at the back. There is the constant drip of rainwater where the grey slates have become dislodged.
From 15th February 2020
The sea is a tangled boiling mess of white right out past the pier. The ragged foam edge creeps up the sand and onto the promenade. The wind sucks the air from my lungs and I'm finding it difficult to breath whilst the rain like a thousand needles scarifies the windward side of my face and fills my eye with water. Three crows sit hunched on the fence. At my approach they launch themselves into the air but their flailing wings find no purchase on the gale and they arrow off down the cliff towards the tumult below.
From 15th February 2014
The twisted pine was the inspiration for many poems and much writing over the last few years. Farewell old friend.
14th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A heavy mist has settled over the green. Not a swirling fog but a still, silent veil cloaking the distant views and softening the outlines of the trees.
A heavy mist has settled over the green. Not a swirling fog but a still, silent veil cloaking the distant views and softening the outlines of the trees. The bay is invisible and all that can be seen are the little waves at the tide’s edge. A crow calls four times and falls silent. There are no more birds to be heard or seen except for a pair of magpies and a raggedy bunch of pigeons pecking at the dew-laden grass. Later, the sun begins to warm the day. The sky is clear and blue and the mist begins to burn off.
From 14th February 2022
A cross over sort of a day. Blue sky with streaks and fluffs of white and gold edged cloud. The sun shines warmly. But the wind is bitter as though is has scalpeled straight down from the ice fields of Greenland. A dunnock sings bravely from a branch and all sorts of birds flit about in pairs. A mass of gulls assemble to be fed at tea time at the top of the steps and the din is deafening. They squeal and scream and fight hoarse with anger as if they had not been fed since last night. But the man with the little trolley is there as regular as regular. patience, gulls. Patience. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #February #springisonitsway
From 14th February 2021
A ferocious roaring surf and a mess of white water a hundred metres off shore. High up the sand a serrated line of weed shows how far up the waves are breaking. A stinging cold rain sweeps along the clifftop. At the water's edge a group of adults and children are enjoying the weather. Two small children are running backwards and forwards into the surf. The water crashing over their wellingtons. The adults continue their conversation and encourage the children to have fun. After all they are at the sea side for half-term and what could go wrong. Except that any of those vicious waves could knock the kiddies off their feet and they would be gone in an instant.
From 14th February 2014
Prodigious storm on West Cliff. Waves right up and over promenade at Durley Chine. Huge noise of surf and trees. Saddest of all is my twisted tree has succumbed to the gale. We shall see properly in the daylight.
13th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sun occasionally making a dart of light onto the ruffled sea.
Still cold beneath a lumpy grey sky. The sun occasionally making a dart of light onto the ruffled sea. Some lads, tired of the winter have decided to come out and play frisbee. A walker saunters past talking loudly and gesticulating. And further along another and another. Once we would have taken this as disturbed and disturbing activity, nowadays we take it for granted that they’d rather converse with their Blue Tooth than engage with the world they’re actually in. Once or twice the sun manages to struggle out and there is blue sky over the town but a fine mist drifts in from the bay and the warmth is fleeting. Gulls circle overhead silently.
From 13th February 2022
The wind roars down the road, tumbles through the tree-tops and whips the waves into mass of white foam for two hundred metres off shore; it sings in the street lamps and howls in the aerials on the high points of the flats. The rain is hard and hurtful and the dark puddles wash across the path but the tarmac itself is as slick and shiny as polished pewter. A party of pigeons peck gamely at the grass. A crow, sat on the cliff top rail stares at me as I pass trying to fathom what I'm thinking. As I draw level and stop for a moment it comes to the conclusion that I am of no interest and allows the wind to carry him off into he blast. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 13th February 2017
The heart shaped ilex tree is being shaken by the gale hammering in from the bay. The wind is crying in the crevices and the rain sheeting across the waves is running like tears down my window. There's a Valentine's message in here somewhere but I can't quite get it.
12th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Trees are designed to grow symetrically and a few on the West Cliff manage to achieve that but most are bent on the continual wind from the bay or lose branches during gales so they grow up as distinct individuals.
All day the louring, grey sky has been trying to squeeze out a fine drizzle. The wind is keen and passers-by are soon chilled. The sound of Sunday morning is the slap of trainer on asphalt as the runners pound by. The sea is somehow reassuring. The wagtails demonstrate their new party trick of suddenly running fast in a straight line on the grass. They seem to have no legs and are propelled along like slot racing cars. Someone seems to have celebrated an occasion that required a confetti canon. The blue petals line the path.Trees are designed to grow symetrically and a few on the West Cliff manage to achieve that but most are bent on the continual wind from the bay or lose branches during gales so they grow up as distinct individuals. Even the young trees quickly assume this attitude and bend towards the North East.
From 12th February 2022
The wind is winding up for a big blow. The young man hurries through the streetlight, the tails of his long black coat swirl and snake behind him. The sea snaps and spits like six cats tied in a sack. Even on the clifftop tiny flecks of foam mix with the hard drops of rain. The tree tops rattle and roar. "Bloody rain again" says the man with no teeth but I find the yellow and orange lights reassuring and the night is oddly beautiful.#Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #springisonitsway #February
From 12th February 2011
A big sea rolling in direct onto the shore. Huge tumbling white foam and a wind booming around the bay window.
11th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Gloomy and cloudy but somehow springlike.
Gloomy and cloudy but somehow springlike. A little warmer, perhaps. Buds on the daffodils and a gentler breeze and a restful sea. A robin and a wren are pecking at something on the path. It is unusual to see these two birds close to each other and the robin doesn’t like it. We know they are agressive little creatures and will drive off anything impinging on its territory but the little wren is unconcerned. Jenny is feisty in her own way and will not be driven off no matter how cross the thuggish robin gets. It is also interesting to compare these birds. They both tend to fly quickly across the footpath and can be gone before you hardly register them but now we can see how much smaller the wren is. It is rounder with a cocked up tail. It moves quicker than the robin and is altogether perkier. And, if you catch them out of the corner of your eye, as you often will, the wren is a darker, choclatey brown which makes the robin appear almost grey in comparison. And, despite it’s tiny size, the wrens song appears even louder than the robin. Much quicker like a jangle of keys although still melodic.
From 11th February 2022
Phenology is the study of patterns in the changing seasons. It used to consist of the sort of observations that Country parsons like Gilbert White would record in a daily diary. When a particular tree would come into leaf and so on. Over hundreds of years these anecdotal observations have contributed to the knowledge of annual variations and thus climate change. We know that spring is happening a month earlier than it did in previous centuries from records of blossom breaking. My little observations are in no way as rigorous or scientific as these. I am more interested in the way people react to the changing seasons. Today the sea glitters and the sun shines warmly from a nearly cloudless sky although the air is very cold. For me, the real sign that spring is on its way is a workman's hi-vis jacket, hung high up on a scaffolding pole, the orange glowing luminously against the blue sky. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #GilbertWhite #springisonitsway
From 11th February 2017
The night is as thin and sharp as a stiletto blade. Despite the thin, sharp breeze, a thin mist lies along the cliff top. A thin cloud veils the moon which still manages to give a thin sharp light, enough for me to find my away among the pines. Across the bay The Elise shows a single, sharp point of light whilst, unseen above, the Flight to Lisbon traces its thin path through the darkness.
From 11th February 2016
As the Barfleur crawls in across the bay out of the darkness all lights blazing I can see young women in flapper dresses draped across the banquettes in the salon unconscious after the party. Young men, equally comatose dressed in tuxedos, their shiny patent dancing pumps scuffed from over exertion in the Charleston. The rails are festooned with gaily coloured streamers, damp now from the brisk dawn air and sea spray while the decks are littered with champagne corks that roll to and fro in the slight swell. The reality is tables of truckers; the heavy jowled French dipping their croissants in vases of black coffee while the red-faced British guys are tucking into full English ("can I have extra grease with that?") before setting off into the crisp frosty dawn.
10th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Today’s excitement comes from the new Eco-Hub opening on the beach at the foot of the cliff.
Although it is still cold, the sun’s course is higher in the sky every day and even though it is behind the cloud much of the time it is warmer. Today’s excitement comes from the new Eco-Hub opening on the beach at the foot of the cliff. With its green planted roof and ev solar panels. We have been waiting for this for three years but the first part, the cafe, opens today. The reclaimed wood architecture seems to take its cues from the trees on the Green. It looks beautiful when the sun shines and there are views of the goats through the open wall next to the cliff. Up here two great tits chase each other through the gorse making a soft “Seee” sound as they go. For more about the EcoHub click on the link below to my Latest News Page.
From 10th February 2022
The night air is bitterly cold. The stars spark and burn . The winter hexagon of Rigel in Orion , Aldebaran in Taurus, Capella in Auriga, Pollux in Gemini, Procyon the Little Dog, and Sirius the Big Dog are as clear and bright as the constellations they belong to.. And if you know nothing of the heavens they are discernible as the six brightest stars to the South. The moon is hard and sharp. The surf grumbles as it thumps onto the sand and then retreats with a long sigh. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #winter #february #WinterHexagon
From 10th February 2021
A woman in a white coat with furry collar leans on the railing and gazes out across the bay. It is bitterly cold but the sun is shining and the sea seems placid. What is she thinking? This is the sort of place where there is no need to think; just look. A wren flits across the path ahead. It just catches the corner of my eye. It is so quick that it is gone before I have noticed it and its presence is a brief memory.
9th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The light is subdued but the sun is trying to break through the lumpy grey clouds. There are vague shadows.
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.