For a brief moment the sun breaks through the rolling clouds and lights up the Barfleur away on the horizon on its way to Cherbourg.

This is the time of year when the Green seems to be holding its breath.

a beautifully arranged collection of bottles.

On the cliff top the sweet pea flowers are turning to seed pods.

One of the delights of the West Cliff is the little glimpses you get of the bay as you pass through the trees and then come to the steps down to the beach.

A solid white haar creeps across the bay, slides up the cliff and writhes its way among the tree tops.

Today, the clifftop sweet peas seem extra brightly coloured.

The scent of new cut grass hangs in the air where the mowers have been at work although there is plenty of long grass left under the trees.

Honeysuckle is draped across the verges.

The bark of the pine trees is black from where the rain has driven into them.

A fresh little breeze and chunky grey cloud cover makes things bearable.

Under another tree, the dried leaves are a strange pink colour. On getting nearer we can see they are confetti.

The acanthus has started to produce flowers and keeps up with its common name of bears’ paws.

The litter pickers are doing a great job starting the day afresh.

The West Cliff rises 30 metres above the white sands and the necklace of beach huts along the sea front.

The West Cliff Green, Where you can spot the ruffled blue waters of the bay between the branches of the trees with names that belong in this day.

The sun glitters off the little ripples on the waters of the bay.

Nettles reach up to above head height and catch the afternoon sun in the clearings beneath the trees.

The annual display of vivid pink sweet peas has sprung up amid the long grasses.

A hazy, misty, grey shadowless day. The colour palette is curiously muted.