20th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The first pale primrose is hiding under the deeper foliage whilst sitting on the back of a bench, a young lad in a bright yellow hoodie lights up a rather dull, rainy scene.
A steady, pattering rain and a sharp wind from the south-west. The sea flurries on the shore like a nursery matron trying to assemble her recalcitrant charges in one place. But plants are trying to make the best of it. Today’s new leaves are of the Ribwort plantain. But here are some first flowers. The green striped white bells of thee cornered leek. It’s rather like an outsize snowdrop but it’s our wild garlic and some people gather it in large amounts to cook with. The garlicky scent is unmistakable. Yesterday, whilst the sun shone was the first day of the hayfever season meaning the pine trees are in flower high over head. Each morning as soon as it’s warm enough, the pale yellow pollen will drift down and cover the paths. The first pale primrose is hiding under the deeper foliage whilst sitting on the back of a bench, a young lad in a bright yellow hoodie lights up a rather dull, rainy scene.
From 20th March 2022
The buffeting wind is still cold but the sun shines down cheerfully out of a clear blue sky. The sea chases up and down the beach with glee. Although officially the first day of spring and for all the cold winds and gales we have had, I would say it has been an early spring this year with spring flowers beginning to show weeks ago and the dawn and evening chorus starting as far back as the end of January. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 20th March 2021
The midpoint between winter and summer. Between lockdown and the corner shop, between still and busy. The day is flat and grey and even. Chilly air except when the the sun manages to burn through. The world has turned on very slightly and we are carried with it. Enjoy the ride.
19th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sea is blue all the way to the crisp horizon.
The sky is intensely blue and entirely cloudless and the sun is warm. The air is fresh and cold. The grass is rich with sparkling dew. A single plane scratches a white line across the gap between two trees. The sea is blue all the way to the crisp horizon. Already people are occupying the benches and enjoying the view and the sunshine. There seems to be a robin singing on every branch. Daffodils push up everywhere there is space for them.
From 19th March 2022
The breeze is still chilly and buffeting. The surf roars. The night sky towers above only thinly veiled by a slight mist. Orion wheels away to the West and pride of the heavens goes to Sirius The Dog Star which blazes out like a beacon. But to the west beyond the pier the huge orange moon is rising in its magnificance. The man who befriends the crows has his camera with the long lens resting on the fence. A small crowd has gathered round him as he explains what can be understood from this spectacle. Distant Saturday night voices carry on the breeze. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March #moon
From 19th March 2021
Somewhere behind those lumpy grey clouds the sun is trying to break through. Occasional splashes of gold reflect up off the sea but the air is filled with a fine drizzle that wets the paths and pavements except under the trees where it cannot penetrate. The greenfinches and small birds have retreated to the fastnesses of the holm oaks. There is no swell on the sea but it is wrinkled by the breeze. Primroses are still making a show.
From 19th March 2020
The grass is heavy with moisture. The air is still and damp. Voices in deep conversation carry right across the WestCliff. The scent of wild garlic is thick on the air. The sea is sighs with pleasure like someone crawling into a bed with newly laundered sheets. Two big blokes are approaching out of the darkness towards me. I make to move aside on the path. One points and says "Nice shoes, Mate" at my pink trainers. I can only say "Cool. Thanks." but I am glowing with pride and goodwill as I make my way up the steps to the front door.
From 19th March 2017
Celandines. Sign of spring.
From 19th March 2016
First bluebells.
18th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Last year’s cones from the scots pine lie scattered on the grass near the little grove of daffodils.
A trick of the light and mist suspends a ship halfway between sea and sky. The air is fresh and the mist wreaths around the treetops. Small birds twitter excitedly among the branches of the sycamore. A great tit sings out cheerfully from a high vantage point. Pigeons coo. Last year’s cones from the scots pine lie scattered on the grass near the little grove of daffodils. Small pink cranesbills are beginning to show themselves alongside the violets. Somebody has been enjoying beer and sandwiches on one of the benches and quite forgot to take the wrappings home. We all get forgetful as we get older but the red and blue can and white plastic bags now are as much of the scene as the flowers and benches and trees. And after a couple of false starts, the sun breaks through and the afternoon is warm under a blue sky.
From 18th March 2022
The sky is a deep, rich blue at the zenith fading down to a delicate, paler wash at the edges. There is not a single cloud and the sun is bold and warm. But the spring air is sharp and fresh and it is definitely jacket weather. The gorse is filled with the sound of greenfinches and on a leafless bush I can count five, no six, dunnocks all calling and singing to each other. Although the dunnock is quite common here I rarely see more than one or two at a time. I wonder if they are not locals; perhaps a party from the mediterranean on their way north. The gulls wheel against the sky and today I can hear the voices of the black headed gulls above those of the herring gulls. The waves are calmer than they have been although they are still large enough to land on the beach with a thump. The spring flowers are everywhere and I see a patch of glossy yellow celandines in a corner. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 18th March 2018
Late night dog walker stands disconsolately while snow builds steadily on his arms and hat. The dog sits morosely on the path beside him becoming one with the drifting white stuff. They gaze stoically into the darkness both waiting for the other to pack it in and go back somewhere warm.
17th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The large glossy green black spotted leaves of Lords and Ladies luxuriate in the fresh, damp air.
It’s damp and drizzly and everything is wet. The grass and greenery are growing up apace. The clumps of green leaves that will be flowers are quite tall now. The large glossy green black spotted leaves of Lords and Ladies luxuriate in the fresh, damp air. The sea is calm and has returned to its natural soothing slump and swish. The sea sound forms a background to everything and becaue of the long long shore line, the waves coming in at a shallow angle means that the sound of one wave breaking still fills the air as the next one is starting further along making a single almost continuous sound. The birds are looking particularly sleek in their new season’s plumage. The gulls are paint sharp in their white grey and black. But we’re still waiting for that definite breakthrough into spring. Everything waiting for something else to take the lead. Out in the bay a couple of jet-skiers are making white curlicues around each other. The early fog begins to clear and the sun finds a patch of blue and shines down warmly and we can see dappled sunshine on the paths.
From 17th March 2022
There's just enough light in the Western sky to throw the old pines into dramatic silhouette. The air is crisp and fresh. The stars are beginning to twinkle but there must be whisps of invisible cloud to obscure some of the constellations. The moon, nearly full now, is brilliant and causes a strange illusion that the silver, corded sea is actually rising up towards it. The goats are curled up in a heap dreaming their untroubled dreams. We quite often get little bouquets of flowers tied to the fence or one of the benches. Tonight there is a bunch of daffodills in a small glass jar on the cliff edge. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 17th March 2021
The sun makes its way up through the streaks and streamers of grey and white clouds to the east. But otherwise the sky is clear blue with only hints and whispers of cloud speckling it. The wind has dropped and the air is fresh; just this side of a frost. Barely a ripple disturbs the surface of the bay and the sand is flat and smooth for the early morning joggers following the tide's edge. This is the best time of year for matching birds to their songs. The dawn chorus is in full swing but, as yet, most trees still have bare branches so it is easy to spot the little fellow making all at din. A willow warbler, tiny and round with a distinctive pale eye stripe sits just above my head and does what willow warblers do best: viz. warbling. A week or two later and I would not have spotted him among the leafage.
16th March from the Westcliff Green, Bournemouth
The sea is steep and jagged, propelled on by a stiff southerly breeze.
The sea is steep and jagged, propelled on by a stiff southerly breeze. The sky is covered by a flat, slate grey cloud except for the part over the bay where there is a gash of blue with streaks white. For a moment the sun peers through and it’s suddenly warm. Gulls wheel overhead and pigeons peck at the grass. The noise of the surf overwhelms all othr sounds including the song of the birds. People walking in the shelter of the trees are bowed into the wind like Lowry’s Matchstick men.
From 16th March 2022
I've mentioned before how difficult I find it to capture the sounds of the surf in words. Whatever I try it can sound cliche'ed and dead. Even more difficult is the character of the sea itself. The waves change their style from minute to minute and by the time I have stumbled upon some descriptive phrases, they have moved on to something quite different. It's all down to the complicated interplay of the wind, the state of the tide and storms far out in the Atlantic and funneling their energy up Channel. When I set out just now, the little waves at slack water were rattling away quite peacefully, but on my second lap of the Green, there was a distinct boom and urgency about them as the tide began to flow. On the cliff top I counted 28 wood pigeons in one flock and several smaller groups. What are they doing here? Blackbirds and thrushes are well into full song and the green finches have added all sorts of warbles to their repertoire. The rain is steady and relentless and moisture drips from the tree canopy above. The Arborists have finally cut away the broken branch that was hanging like the sword of Damocles above unwary walkers but for some reason they have left it where it came down right in the middle of the path. Some sort of tribute to the storms, perhaps. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March #waves #
From 16th March 2021
The sky is flat and grey and even but high with a promise of dissolving to blue. The air is fresh as a face flannel and little curls of breeze whisk around from time to time. The sea is calm and even. And the beach is clean and crisp and even. Even the birds seem subdued and respectful as I pass. A dunnock flies onto a bramble to look at me closer. Decides I am of little use so flies off. The sun is skulking there somewhere.
Later
The sky is now a single wash of colour from zenith to horizon. Navy through cerulean to a blue as pale as a linnet's eggshell before fading into primrose, gold and deep orange. Stark black silhouettes of the trees look exactly as though they are cut from black paper. The air is crystal clear with lights as bright from The Isle of Wight to Studland. And the sea breathes gently on the sand. A single sliver of waxing moon hangs in the west as delicate as a Princess' toenail clipping *. The first two stars appear in the darkening firmament. They are Sirius and Regulus. The cliff top is alive with dozens of hawking fluttering bats. *Image courtesy of Holly Rowena Cooper
15th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The Inshore Lifeboat makes a search pattern along the water’s edge.
The coast guards and an ambulance have assembled at the bottom of the Chine. The Inshore Lifeboat makes a search pattern along the water’s edge. Apparently a backpack has been found abandoned on the beach. The sea is calm and the waves are small in the chill, hazy, dawn light. There is a sharp onshore breeze. We do not hear the result of the search yet. The sun is veiled by a continuous grey cloud cover. The man who collects the litter puts three cashews out on the clifftop rail. Within seconds a crow has descended and collected them. The voice of other crows echo off the walls of the big blocks sounding as they would have done against the stone walls of an ancient fortress. The arrival of spring is heralded by three para sails that float majestically overhead. The gulls circle, interrogating these new arrivals.
From 15th March 2022
A crisp chill air to greet me after a day away. The night sky is slightly hazy so the bright gibbous moon shines as through super fine silk chiffon. The sea is slow and langorous. The trees are still and the shadows are deep and dark. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 15th March 2021
A filmy grey sky and the remains of yesterdays chilly wind but when the sun manages to burst through from time to time it's quite warm. The sea is almost tranquil. A party of juvenile are hanging about on the clifftop in the way that all juveniles hang out together. Bored, shuffling just waiting for when they can do what the grown ups do in a couple of years. The man training his dog gestures for her to lie down. He walks away and puts a small trophy on the path. The dog waits alert but watching his signals. He walks past and away. The dog is never takes her eyes off him. He points. The dog races off, picks up the trophy and returns it to the man. The whole episode conducted with no words. I'm aware how much of the time I'm using gestures to communicate. A palm face up to greet familiar walkers. "After you" at a narrow part of the path. A truck driver is reversing across the pavement. I signal "Is it safe for me to come round in front" He signals back "OK. Quite safe. I'm watching you"
14th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The big, bulgy black and grey clouds bumble around the rest of the firmament occasionally allowing a sight of a few rags and tatters of sailors’ trousers
There is a curtain of pale blue around the edge of the sky. The big, bulgy black and grey clouds bumble around the rest of the firmament occasionally allowing a sight of a few rags and tatters of sailors’ trousers and for the sun to shine warmly for a few seconds. The wind is still keen. The water in the bay looks calm with only ripples disturbing the surface but there is a big swell which heaps itself up as it nears the shoreline, steepling into tall waves that shiver for a moment and then crash down on the sand. Runners are out in force today and wear huge earphones which, from a distance, makes them look like Doctor Who’s Cybermen. Gold finches twitter together in one of the holm oaks and blue tits churr from the low pine branches.
From 14th March 2022
At this time of the evening, the long paths under the trees are strangely empty. The pools of light from the lamp posts seem to make them appear even emptier. Even my soft footsteps seem to echo. The air is fresh. The moon stutters out from behind the clouds and creates a silver halo on the eldrich shapes that surround it. A painting by Claude Joseph Vernet. A stream of keep-fitters with head torches run down the steps re-enacting an ancient ritual procession that could be part of Mussorgsky's Night on an Bare Mountain. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March #Vernet #Mussorgsky
From 14th March 2021
No mucking about today. No coyly peeping out from a thin veil of mist. No dramatic regal entrance through huge swags of purple clouds. A perfectly straightforward dawn with the sun sliding up, a clear golden yellow disc into a blue sky ready to get on with the days work of warming the denizens of the West Cliff. The cold wind still has something to say about that, though. The sea is calm with orderly rows of waves breaking sharply on the shore like a dowager duchess rapping the table before a meeting of the Mothers' Union. It is Mothering Sunday and the violets and primroses by the path remind me of wilted little posies in grubby little fists from long ago.
From 14th March 2012
The twisted pine stands black against the pearl pre-dawn fog that blankets the bay /////The twisted pines appears for a moment out of the clifftop fog like an old man with a sack of brass candlesticks over his shoulder before disappearing again chuckling to himself.
13th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Today’s tribute is a little bunch of red edged roses.
A strong wind from the south roaring and hissing through the high tree branches and bending the bushes and grases this way and that as it twists and turns along the clifftop and flattens the short grasses to a single shining sheet. It sends the billowing white clouds scudding across the sky. The sun manages to appear hazily from time to time. The wind is not cold and there are times when the morning is quite warm. The bay is swathed in a thin mist which blots out the division between sea and sky at the horizon. The jagged waves are raucous and unrestrained chasing the white foam high up on the beach. Today’s tribute is a little bunch of red edged roses. The cliff top birds, mostly black headed gulls stand facing into the wind. The sides of the path are smotherd in violets and speedwell and in one or places the tiny pink flowers of Herb Robert Open areas with no grass are covered with thousands of wormcasts; treats for the gulls and blackbirds.
From 13th March 2022
The big waves thunder in. The breeze is steady and the air is cutting cold. But despite it all, the sun shines from a blue sky decorated with intricate trails and traceries of white cloud. Small birds twitter and chirrup from every bush. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #march
From 13th March 2021
A boisterous, playful wind chases up and down the clifftop. Long lines of breakers pile in on the shore. Three early morning swimmers bob in the surf. I can see their neon pink glow even from this distance. As it rises clear of the horizon, the sun is cheerfully warm and it feels pleasant in the lee of the gorse bushes. The buds of the hazel bush are bursting into full green life. A greenfinch clings bravely to a dead bramble and wheezes its funny little call.
12th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
the benches are empty until a black and white sheep dog decides to take posession of one.
The sun is veiled by a thin grey cloud. A steady breeze from the South so it doesn’t seem quite as cold until the sun is blotted out in its unending game of hide and seek with the clouds. At the moment the clouds are winning two nil and it is cold again. Sunday amblers and saunterers are out in Force in couples and families. But the benches are empty until a black and white sheep dog decides to take posession of one. I ask the owner if I can take a picture and she signals to her pet who then takes up a series of poses from lying at full length to sitting up to looking fierce. Pigeons coo from the tree tops. A blackbird chitters and the wagtails leap and bounce. Little clumps of daffodills appear in unexpected places. Despite the cold there is an uplift in mood around the place.
From 12th March 2022
A lazy wind. You know, the sort that goes right through and chills you to the bone because it can't be bothered to go round. It harries the sea which thrums and hisses onto the beach. The half moon is veiled in thin, high cloud so shines a strange, muted silver light. The empty pools of the street lights on the path throw deep, shadows beneath the trees which are thick and dark and full of more mystery because I can see the occasional lights from the flats through them. The gap between reality here and there is a deep, unknowable void. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 12th March 2016
The hypnotic rustling of the sea is an attempt to mesmerise and lull while the strange concentrated ballet of the anglers' head-torches dance and weave along the beach. Above, hangs the veiled luminescence of the Queen of the Night swathed in muslin and locked in a velvet lined vault lest her rays hurt our minds.
11th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Green grey mantled with white caps like a vast mountain range on some exotic, distant planet.
Rain, rain and more rain. The sea in tall, ragged, jagged peaks. Green grey mantled with white caps like a vast mountain range on some exotic, distant planet. Crows flying among the tree tops. Magpies diving in among the pigeons making them jump about. A rough wind from the sea to the south raking the long grass flat. The sun hidden behind huge tumbling dark clouds occasionally making enough of a showing to polish the waves briefly. But everywhere tufts of new leaves pushing up into the light. Mallows, Bristly Ox Tongue, wild carrot, sorrel, even bluebells. But no flowers as yet.
From 11th March 2022
Buffeting wind, driving rain, boiling sea. The goats have found somewhere down the cliff in the shelter of the gorse bushes to lie up. The spreading puddles reflect the grey sky as silver mirrors which shiver as the breeze crosses them. Later the sun makes an appearance and the day cheers up. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #bournemoutheastcliffgoats #spring #March
From 11th March 2021
The clouds are as grey and ragged as dirty dishcloths. (Although if I had dishcloths in that state I would consign them to the bin) The sea is puzzled and bemused by the blustery wind and it writhes and twists on the beach like cat with a firework tied to its tail (I do not condone or excuse this practice). By the end of my walk I have run out of clever images and the sun breaks through in a clear lemon light and the sky is a bright, pale blue over Will's Mum's way.
From 11th March 2012
A staggeringly beautiful evening. Starfire burning intensely against the deep curtains of night. A vixen yelping and barking in the undergrowth. The distant murmur of traffic. And beyond it all the unseen majesty of the sea.
10th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
there is a big, long swell running and as it reaches the shore it rears up like a frightened stallion and stamps down hard on the flat sand with a cascade of white foam covering the beach.
The roar and crash of the sea is enormous. The bay itself looks deceptively calm but there is a big, long swell running and as it reaches the shore it rears up like a frightened stallion and stamps down hard on the flat sand with a cascade of white foam covering the beach. People stand and watch the spectacle daring the white mass of water to wet their shoes before they run away. The wind has veered towards the North and is chilly. The sun continues its troubled attempts to lighten the day. The daffodills have overcome the earlier harvest and a big clump of foxglove leaves are driving upwards towards the spring.
From 10th March 2022
A drizzly, misty late afternoon. The breeze is gentle on my cheek. The waves sigh steadily. From the little gorse filled gully a blackbird starts to sing. It's song is almost translucent in its clarity. It is answered by another blackbird in an ilex tree nearby and then a thrush, a robin until the evening chorus is in full swing. Even a crow tries a hoarse harmony and the gulls provide a distant continuo. I shake hands with the goat keeper and we talk for a long while over the fence with George in attendance before we are joined by Gordon whom he nicknames Flash. A perfect, soft spring evening. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #march #bournemoutheastcliffgoats
From 10th March 2021
It's not what I would call a steady rain; more a cold drizzle driven into icy squalls by a buffeting wind from across the bay. The sea is grey green and jagged with white capped waves something like a badly iced Christmas cake. The surf adds to the image with its wide white lacy frill along the whole length of the beach. The sea is tormented into a drawn out, continuous hissing sound which combines with the roaring of the pine tops makes an almost industrial soundscape. It reminds me of the din from a steel works I used to walk through. Twigs and small branches cover the path. The spring flowers have hunkered down till the sun shines again. Pigeons keep to the margins of the green where there is shelter in the lee of the gorse. The crows strut about disappointed they have nothing to boss.
9th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A steady drizzle and a roaring sea. The blustery wind has backed to the South West and it is slightly warmer.
A steady drizzle and a roaring sea. The blustery wind has backed to the South West and it is slightly warmer. We certainly haven’t got the snow we were promised over the last few days. The pigeons are still busy on the short grass. The grass is luxuriating in the wet and is spreading over last autumn’s leaf litter. Thus each year adds another layer. A runner passes by in black shorts and singlet and luminous shoes. He is quite unphased by the weather. There is a tiny sliver of silver out on the horizon where the sun has fought through a gap in the clouds. It makes its way across the misty bay but as soon as it reaches the clifftop a deluge of rain crashes down as fat as a tropical storm, each drop throwing up a little mushroom cloud of water from the puddles. And as soon as it has started it finishes and the sun struggles through for a few seconds before the rain starts again. And so it continues.
From 9th March 2022
The sun peers weakly from a hazy grey sky. The wind is not as cold but still harries the dirty green waves until they roar onto the shore. Gulls wheel and cry. The flock of pigeons number 22 today; all busily munching at whatever it is they find so delightful in the short grass. A hiker in a red anorak surveys the toposcope on the Bronze Age monument as if he expects some ancient truth to be revealed to him. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 9th March 2021
The air is clean and clear and intoxicating in its frosty freshness. The sky arches over in the most delicate pale blue. Mauve mist lines the horizon. To the east there is a wash of primrose that grows stronger until the sun bursts through with an intense orange glare. And laying down a golden path over the wrinkling sea. Little waves breathe softly. The branches of as yet leafless sweet chestnut show in magnificent silhouette against the brilliance of the dawn. Three smokers move aside to let me pass. We exchange greetings and one says. "I like your beret." "Yes," I say. "I do too." I am made happy by the compliment.
8th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The only colour is the lavish golden yellow of the gorse.
A steady rain. The puddles are growing and reflect the pale grey sky like a row of silver mirrors. The only colour is the lavish golden yellow of the gorse. Although they are not particularly large or ferocious, the dirty green waves get themselves into a bit of a lather and cover the beach in white foam. The Mothers draw their buggies into the cliff top shelter and wait there for the rain to ease off. They chatter among themselves excitedly. A little flurry of tits flutter through the bare branches of the bushes. Although I can only see them in silhouette, the little crest on their heads tells me they are blue tits. They have a short but jaunty little song as they go.
From 8th March 2022
The long rollers of the colour Farrow and Ball call Green Smoke, heave themselves onto the beach with a lacy edged flourish. The wind is cutting and trimmed with hard rain drops under a slate jumbled cloud base. A couple of dandelions decorate the bare earth of a little wash out under a bank of gorse. Under the shrubs at the paths edge the three sided leeks are beginning to fill all the gaps and the air is heavy with their garlicky odour. Add the coconut from the gorse, the petrichor from last year's leaf litter, not to mention the distant undertone of the goats, and the air is filled with scents as rich as a in a very expensive restaurant. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #march
From 8th March 2012
A white full moon behind the broken cloud. The still fresh air carries the boom of the surf inland over the top of the cliff to the street where it mingles with the tyre rush of the hushed traffic.
7th March from the West Cliff Green,Bournemouth
The crow with the wonky wing snarls and barks at a robin who has wandered over to see what is good to eat.
An aimless cold drizzle develops into a more concerted icy rain. A grey mist hangs over the bay. Big glassy green waves thump onto the beach and crawl high up on the sand. Pigeons, head down and eating voraciously on the short grass seem too busy to be indulging in dancing that proccupied them yesterday. The crow with the wonky wing snarls and barks at a robin who has wandered over to see what is good to eat. A wagtail bounces along the path in front of me just keeping far enough ahead to seem as though he is a pet I am taking for a walk.
From 7th March 2022
The march wind continues to deliver an ice-cream chill to the day. But the sky is cloudless and intensely blue and the sun shines brilliantly. The pines creak and rustle and the long hedge of gorse on the clifftop is staggering yellow against the distant grey blue of the sea. The long waves lift up and tumble over in a confusion of white foam. The noise has risen in pitch from a rushing sound to an unceasing crashing noise. Small birds twitter defiantly from the depths of the bushes. The goats have emerged from the shelter of the cliff face bushes and are indulging in spring time pushing and shoving. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #march
From 7th March 2021
A smudge of frost on the tall grass on the clifftop. The sky is a mass of broken grey cloud but over to the east, just off the the Isle of Wight, the sun bursts through and makes a brilliant orange gold puddle which, in turn, casts a strange greenish brassy glow across the rest of the bay. The sea is in a playful mood: little wavelets chasing each other up the beach. Gulls wander aimlessly, bewildered by this strange world they find themselves in. "Oh?" They Say "Oh? Oh?" at each new bafflement. Crows direct operations from the lamp posts barking harsh orders at the passers-by.
6th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Some broccoli, half a cabbage and three lettuce leaves. Make of that what you will.
The pigeons are performing their annual dances. First, a little circle dance where the male turns round and round while the female looks on. And then stiffly, proudly walks beside her across the grass trying to get her to look at him until she flies off. The green leaves of the Holm Oaks are covered with tiny wandering brown trails which, in the end, consume the whole of the leaf. These are leaf miners, so small that they can live within the thickness of the leaf. In early summer they will lay eggs and the tiny grubs will emerge next year at this time to start all over again. On the clifftop where people often leave a bunch of flowers there is a peculiar offering today. Some broccoli, half a cabbage and three lettuce leaves. Make of that what you will. Meanwhile the day continues grey with a cold breeze. The sea grumbles on.
From 6th March 2022
A bitter, blustery northerly wind. The waves, coming in slantwise to the shore make a continuous roaring noise as each wave is beginning to break whilst the one ahead is still surging up the beach. Great slabs of grey cloud slide across the clear blue sky, first hiding then revealing the sun which is failing to inject any warmth into the day. But is does pick out the myriad silver daisies on the short green. Two wood pigeons in their dandy spring finery, pink breast and dapper white neckerchief, are playing kiss chase under the ilex trees. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 6th March 2021
No frost but it's bitingly cold and cheeks fingers and ears are soon tingling. A little group of surfers are already in the water looking like a party of seals. The sea is calm. They may have to lounge there for some time before any sort of wave appears. Further along the Saturday swimmers are bobbing and bouncing. The faint sound of the engines and pumps from the big dredger anchored off the pier creep across the bay where she is replenishing the sand on the beach for our future delight. The rising sun bursts through the purple streaks of cloud and directs a brilliant orange beam right across the water along side the dredger. The dredger is called Willem van Oranje. Make of that what you will. She is powered by used coking oil. Under one of the benches three or four plastic cups roll with a hollow mournful sound. The air is still and silent under the pines. The only sounds are the continual moaning of the pigeons and the chat and squabble of magpies.
From 6th March 2019
to me, what has been at the root of our troubles over the past thirty years. We have moved from a culture of hope to a culture of fear. And fear is what strangles us. We suffocate under a blanket of fear and retreat to glassy eyed paralysis. To change the world, change the way you think about it. Move from seeing the looming catastrophe to promoting the solutions. We've got nothing to lose, really.
5th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
another grey, cold day with a breeze as cold as the Devil’s breath underlined by the sea slapping onto the sand with some vehemence.
The wren is one of our most numerous birds and yet many people will not have seen one. They are tiny and are never still but you would recognise their fat little brown body with cocked up tail in an instant. They tend to flit about at shoe height across paths and from bush to bush so quickly that you only ever glimpse them out of the corner of your eye before they are gone. But what is distinctive is their pretty tinkling song like a waterfall of musical notes but given at such volume that it’s difficult to match the size of the song with such a diminutive little creature. This morning I heard three of them singing at each other from neighbouring bushes, presumably asserting their rights over their territories. But it was uplifting all the same. Otherwise it was another grey, cold day with a breeze as cold as the Devil’s breath underlined by the sea slapping onto the sand with some vehemence.
From 5th February 2022
The cold blustery wind from the North has blown back in again. The dark lumpy, grumpy clouds jostle together. The sea chases in and throws itself on the beach. The flock of pigeons eagerly hunting through the short grass has grown to a couple of dozen. Gulls hang about with not a lot to occupy themselves. A robin tries to cheer everyone up by going through its whole repertoire from a dead branch. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 5th February 2021
A keen, fresh breeze means it's not the time for lingering. A watery sun peeps out from time to time from behind rags of grey clouds and throws a half-hearted shadow along the path in front of me. But between the banks of grey there are glimpses of a clear, blue sky. The sea, laps anxiously as though it is already late for its appointed tide. The work boat Viking Energy thrums along. A rather unlovely vessel but it busies itself about its work about the bay all the same. The broad, dull dark leaves of wild arum form a little clump by the path.
4th March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A rustling grey sea under a grey sky. A haze on the horizon. Everything indefinite, nothing swims into focus
Damp and chilly. A rustling grey sea under a grey sky. A haze on the horizon. Everything indefinite, nothing swims into focus. The air feels close and quiet rather like being in the damp undercroft of a church. It is soft with no resolution. A couple both wearing woolly pompom hats are huddled together on a bench. I bet that’s as much for warmth as for affection. All the other benches are empty and stretch far away into the hazy distance.
From 4th March 2022
Earlier a watery sun appeared from behind a covering of corrugated clouds and planished the rippled surface of the bay with a brassy sheen. Then the clouds drew back and the sky became littered with fair weather clouds whilst the sun shone more warmly. But as the afternoon progresses the clouds have built up again and there is a stiff, chill wind from the South West. People are out enjoying what sunshine there is. Four greenfinches flutter off from the top of a bush whilst others call from further along. In a little clearing the goats have made, a dunnock forages for good things. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 4th March 2021
A fresh, damp, misty morning. The air is still and the sea untroubled. Evergreen leaves of ivy, laurel and rhododendron are polished mirror smooth. The mist mutes all the colours except for the broad, careless swashes of brilliant yellow gorse. The crows regard themselves as masters of the clifftop and allow the gulls to paddle for worms on sufferance. One gull steps out of line and incurs the wrath of a crow lunging at him with head lowered and thrust out, Harsh voice saying "Get off my land" feathers on its crown raised, wings held out stiffly and tail spread and metallic looking. The gull, terrified by this samurai tumbles over itself in an attempt to get airborne. A second crow barks encouragement from the top of a lamp post.
3rd March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The waves shimmer and shake as they crash onto the shore.
The trees always look their best in the early mornings with the sunlight slanting through casting dark shadows in contrast with the pale tree-trunks. The sky is a bright blue but there is still a nasty wind. There is a big swell running out in the bay. The waves shimmer and shake as they crash onto the shore. Not with the feorocity of a winter storm but enough to remind us of the power of the sea. The goats are climbing through the trees again. A pure white pigeon has joined the resident population as they wander round the short grass as they always do. Pairs of greenfinches flitter to and fro among the clifftop bushes. Gulls circle high up against the blue like scraps of torn white tissue paper. Magpies chatter and rasp. But the clouds are never far away and return soon after lunch.
From 3rd March 2022
It's one of those days which can't decide between mist or low cloud. The horizon has faded away and the green sea and surf writhes as if uncertain of which direction it wants to go. A nippy wind from the South West carries a fine drizzle which threatens to turn to rain. Everything is dripping with moisture and as the lights come on, the long grass and leaves sparkle with a myriad of jewels.
From 3rd March 2021
The wind has dropped and there is a heavy dew. The sun is sulking behind the mist over the bay but its beams are edging the broken clumps and tufts of cloud with primrose, gold and tangerine. Our little local birds are having the best of the dawn chorus before the more showy summer visitors arrive. The still naked branches provide perfect singing spots for wrens, dunnocks and greenfinches with their strange, old man rasping. The violets are carpeting path edges in even greater profusion than they were a few days ago.
2nd March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Despite the occasional sun most of of deciduous trees are showing no sign of leafage.
Big squashy pillows of white and grey cloud out to the south but the blue sky is covered with a thin film of haze so that when the sun bobs into view it is not as warm as it might be. The cold North Easterly wind continues reducing the temperature even further. The glassy green sea is covered with big ripples that plunge onto the beach with a great deal more noise than seems reasonable. Despite the occasional sun most of of deciduous trees are showing no sign of leafage. There may be more cold weather to come. Robins sing. Pigeons coo.
From 2nd March 2022
The grey sky is lighter and thinner. The sun even manages a very brief appearance. The breeze is gentle from the south and the rain, although heavy this morning is reduced to a few occasional drops on the wind. The grey-green sea seems irresolute about which way it should be going and shuffles about on the shore. Magpies travel backwards and forwards between the trees. Blackbirds carol all day long and a robin sings from the clifftop rail. There are still plenty of signs of last week's storms with large branches with torn off ends lying next to the path. A big branch hangs by a sliver of bark over the path. Everywhere is still littered with green pine twigs and brushes. The goats are exploring further down the cliff while one stays at the top chewing the cud vacantly. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #spring #March
From 2nd March 2021
The sky , the mist, the sea form an unbroken grey backdrop. The waves emerge to lap at the beach. The easterly breeze is raw on my cheeks. The sun is already high but only appears through the mist from time to time as a flat, silver disc. Little birds chatter excitedly from the bushes. The big green tractors, beeping urgently, shuffle backwards and forwards busy in their unending task of clearing sand from the promenade. The mist muffles The deep growl of Cotentin's fog siren as she picks her way through the harbour. Clumps of thick green leaves that will be bluebells push up through the leaf litter. Garden escapee primroses line one of the fences.
From 2nd March 2018
The pretty snow now has a thick crust of glassy ice over it. You can't see it until too late and the rain that is now falling is making the ice thicker and slippier.
1st March from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The goats have taken to climbing among the tree branches and balance there with a sort of caprine insouciance.
We haven’t seen much of the gulls recently. Today we can hear their morbid cries echoing from over the town where they are inspecting (and fighting over) nesting sites on the roofs of the blocks of flats. Many gulls return to the same sites year after year much to the delight (or chagrin) of the residents. Under the lumpy grey sky a single gold band is all we can see of the sun. It is still cold with a sneaking wind from the North East. There is a long swell but not enough for a lone surfer who stands disconsolately waist deep in the disappointing surf. The goats have taken to climbing among the tree branches and balance there with a sort of caprine insouciance. Goats have no tear ducts so if one was to fall there would be no crying.
From 1st March 2022
A relentless, dreary rain from relentlessly dreary clouds. The paths are shiny wet and the puddles stretch right across making passers by, walk through the wet grass to circumvent them. A grrenfinch sits high up in a bush singing relentlessly. The man who feeds the seagulls says he used to train pilots and he admires the flying skills of the gulls. He points out that when making sudden aerial moves they use their feet as airbrakes exactly as jet fighters do. The relentless sea continues rushing onto the beach. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #March #spring
From 1st March 2021
The breeze is as sharp as a knife and there is a heavy dew on the grass. A grey mist smoothes all the cracks and wrinkles in the dawn. Far below, where the surf nags at the beach flattening it and making it hard and even, a lone figure in a yellow coat crouches at the tide edge turning over a few pebbles before moving on and crouching again. Every tree seems to have a pigeon in the morning. At the side of the path there is a mass of violets and on the hazel branches catkins are giving way to fat green leaf buds. The bin men spin out a cheery "good morning" as I pass.
From 1st March 2018
The snow is fine and powdery and fills the air in great swirling curtains. This is serious white stuff. Stay warm.
From 1st March 2015
Raining.
From 1st March 2014
Spring is early this year. The pine trees are already making pollen. Eyes red and itchy.
From 1st March 2010
Pale blue sky and a bright, yellow sun creeping up over the hoizon. But a hard frost and another tough shift for those working all night