Wet January

No, I'm not suggesting that you all over-indulge this January as my title might suggest, although we sure as hell won't be doing Veganuary, Dry January or any other marketing concept the man decides to throw at us by tapping into our insecurities in order to shift shed loads of units.  This wet January in fact, started in late December and has "spilled over" into the New Year.

Once again our rivers are flooded.  Almost a year ago to the day, we were in the same position.  Tired of surrendering to the elements, we headed out on New Year's Eve to see Mother Nature's latest show of strength.

The ducks seemed unperturbed, enjoying a feeding frenzy courtesy of visitors walking off their Christmas pudding.

But the mighty Severn had once again breached its banks.

The little bridge to the far right of this photo was awash, but had yet to reach last year's levels (although by the time you read this, I'm sure it has).  During our visit, the tweenies were getting their kicks, riding at speed through the water.  

You really can't visit Arley without walking up the hill to the heritage railway station, passing the hamlet's solitary pub glimpsed here.  Stopping is optional, but recommended. :-D

The station appeared to be deserted, save for a couple of volunteers, who were busy taking down the decorations left over from the Christmas Enchanted Express timetable.  The Porter's Room was however, still clinging on to the last days of Christmas.

Just as we were about to leave, we heard the distant noise of a locomotive and decided to hang around.  Within minutes, a diesel rolled into the station.

True to the old adage, you wait for one and then two come along at once.  The diesel was quickly joined by a steam locomotive travelling in the opposite direction.  We quickly ran up onto the bridge to reach the other platform before it departed.

It's hard not to feel like you've strayed onto a film set whenever one of these majestic beauties arrives.  I hope these passengers were enjoying their trip!  I'm not sure, judging by this man's expression.

I managed to capture the handing over of the token and after sharing the image on Instagram, was chuffed that BBC Midlands made it their photo of the day.  I was even more thrilled when one of the volunteers subsequently purchased a high res digital download from me.  Initially he wanted it as a laptop screen saver, but has plans to get a print framed to adorn the walls of his new home.  Thanks Dougie! (There he is in the cap).

On New Year's Eve, despite an invitation to join friends in the pub, we ended the year on a lazy note.  Neither of us could muster the courage to battle against the wind and rain and so enjoyed our own very loud kitchen disco before tuning in to Jools Holland's Hootenanny (a UK TV New Year's staple).  I cried (again) at the tribute to Shane MacGowan (hormones?) and we stood in the street outside to watch the fireworks.  Next year's "Not Going Out Cry-Fest" will be a ticketed event.  Don't all rush at once!

As we entered the New Year (ahem, somewhat late in the day), Storm Henk ensured that the river levels were topped up.  Once again, we find our region transformed into one of disappearing land and a transport network riddled with road closures due to flood water and rotten fallen trees.

At nearby Bewdley yesterday, we parked at the station (also on the Severn Valley railway line)...

...and navigated the muddy back alleyways to reach the centre of the town. 

For safety reasons, the main route through town over the bridge was closed.

The barriers were up and whilst the river level was dangerously high, it's expected to peak tomorrow. 

This side of the metal barriers is usually a bend in the road with the pavement beyond.  

Sandbags were everywhere.

These sacks (evidence of the new barrier construction - not finished in time) had been claimed by the river.

It's hard to fathom how the residents must feel.  The all-too-frequent disruption to homes and livelihoods might attract people like me, wishing to record the unfolding events, but it's so hard for those directly affected.

This year (a general election is timetabled for the second half of 2024), I'm going to give particularly serious consideration to who gets my vote.  They will need to be taking climate change seriously and not just making and immediately breaking pledge after pledge after pledge.

I took a short iphone video of the river.  Incidentally, it's brown because of the local sandstone.  It's always this colour.  As a child, I would always colour my rivers brown.  Take a look at the fast flowing Severn here:

Bewdley, River Severn Flooding after January storm. #nature #floods #riversevern (youtube.com)

Can you believe, looking at this cold and flooded landscape, that we're in for the hottest year on record?!

Now is the perfect time to share with you this year's calendar choice. Here's the page for January (cropped so you don't see all of my secrets).  It's a Crooked House calendar, featuring locals' photos of the pub in its heyday and site in the aftermath of its destruction.  You can see Gareth's art installation centred around the fireplace he pulled from the rubble.  

Particularly amusing, is the fact that the calendar is written in the Black Country dialect.  So a brief lesson for non natives.  It's not "Jan-u-ary" it's "Jan-u-erry" and I'm signing off today, "Therzdi."

See you soon!

Waterworld

For a typically weather obsessed Brit, I think I can safely say that January appears to have traded places with one of the zodiac's water signs.  There has been a lot of wet stuff about.  Being, as we are, located in the West Midlands regions of the UK and just a hop, skip and a jump from the Welsh border, our regions riverside towns such as Bewdley and Ironbridge, are often severely impacted by rain washing down off the Welsh hills which serves to compound any localised flooding.

It was 11 months ago, when the River Severn last flooded and breached its barriers, as recorded here in my little poetic offering.  Winter Peach Photography: Storms

This time, the barriers held...just.  This was the scene as we approached the town of Bewdley - on foot, as the road in was closed.  The dog in the foreground was perplexed by all of the interest in his home town.  He had his orange ball and all was well in his world.

In town, the community's unease was palpable.

Preparing for worst case scenario, the Environment Agency was in town, raising the flood barriers to their maximum height.

I wasn't wholly surprised to run into local drone photographers Simon and Joanna (our first time meeting in the flesh, although we all pretty much instantly recognised each other).  Simon captured the swollen River Severn and the awesome power of nature in dramatic fashion from above.  You can view it here.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CnZ2_MKBihe/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Not so longer this kind of event was labelled a "once in a generation" occurrence.  We don't hear that phrase any more.

Arley, just a few miles down river, had also been affected.  We spoke to a man who had, for the majority of his life, only recalled two such severe floods decades apart in the 1940s and 1960s.  We visited both towns two days running.  Here's the little bridge at Arley on day 1.

And the same bridge from the other side on day 2, completely submerged.

Bewdley on day 2 was much the same...

...the water pumps working overtime.

Mercifully, the flood waters did not breach the barriers, leaving the Environment Agency somewhat red faced after their minute by minute predictions failed to come to fruition.  Many frustrated residents had adopted their emergency plans and either evacuated or moved household contents to upper floors.  Still a relief for all, I'm sure.

Our wonderings also took us to a never-before-visited Nature Reserve.  After dropping our car off for its MOT, we walked back via Fens Pool Nature Reserve, situated in the Pensnett area of the West Midlands.  Once forming part of Pensnett Chase, a medieval hunting ground for the Barons of Dudley, it gradually became industrialised and was used for coal mining, clay extraction and a one time brickworks.  

In addition, part of the Earl of Dudley's private railways ran across the area.  By the 1960s, the area had served its purpose; the colliery waste ground reverting to grassland and the clay pits flooded and turned into ponds.  

Opened as a nature reserve in the early 1990s, it now forms the largest area of open water in Dudley Metropolitan Borough.

Heading onto the Stourbridge canal (opened in 1779), we were greeted by familiar towpath scenes - urban artwork/graffiti...

....Brockmoor Foundary, semi obscured by nature...

...a solitary hunting heron...

....urban alleyways....

...and remnants of our industrial heritage and world renowned glass making (the Red House Glass Cone, just beyond the lock keeper's cottage).

Another day, another adventure.  Except this wasn't just any day, but Gareth's 50th Birthday.  Every year I endure 5 days of Gareth celebrating his "toy boy" status, so forgive me if I am now seem to be labouring the fact that he has notched up half a century.  Gareth doesn't do social media (and I rarely use it other than for business), so it's always interesting and enlightening to say the least to see who actually remembers and sends something tangible like a birthday card, or picks up the phone these days don't you think?  This particularly thoughtful card dropped through the letter box from Vix and Jon.  It's a keeper.

We headed out to Attingham Park, the Shropshire National Trust property beloved by fellow bloggers Vix and Ann.  

The sky was blue and the sun was shining upon arrival.  I was layered up like the Michelin Man and felt nothing as a result.  In fact, you could have rolled me down a bank and into the river and I would most likely have floated along the river quite contentedly.

The house was closed so we headed to the Carriage House Cafe for a lunch of honeyed swede soup and cauliflower and cumin fritters (for once I photographed my food - the fritters were delicious!) 

Refuelled, we headed out to the 18th century estate kitchen garden.  This couple were angled towards the sun, dosing up on vitamin D.

Inside, I was drawn to the wild garden, a haven for wildlife.

Just look at these beautiful seed heads.

Jobs for January.

We found a particularly warm and sunny corner of the garden.  Look at the nails, screws, holes and rawl plugs in this wall.  It's lived a life!

I asked Gareth to give me a 50th Birthday pose.  Just to demonstrate that his punk spirit is still alive and kicking, this was his choice.  More Johnny Cash than "blue steel pose."  In reality, I'm not sure how "punk" you can get in the grounds of an 18th century manor house.

Weaving back along the still swollen river, I grabbed a couple of pleasing vista shots...

...and tried in vain to photograph a falcon in a tree.  The beady eyed bird, despite being safely perched on a branch 15 feet up in the air, still refused to allow me to get anywhere near it, flying from tree to tree until eventually I gave up.

The dying light was exquisite, but with little warning, dark clouds gathered and the sun retreated behind a veil of white cloud.

Soon, it was raining steadily and so we retreated to the safety and relative warmth of the second hand book shop, where I picked up a couple of page turners....

....before exiting through the stables and back out into the courtyard.

Inspired by the lantern glow, we lit a candle that night, trying to add a little of that 18th century rich living vibe to our humble abode.  The smoke was courtesy of an incense stick, in case you're wondering.

Hope you're all keeping warm and dry.  If the winter gloom is getting you down, feast your eyes on these little snowdrops poking through.  Spring is coming.