Time Out for Heather

I remember years ago my sister in law telling me that someone had said that she had not really seen Scotland unless she had seen a hill full of heather in bloom.  I resisted thinking that because it seemed so Brigadoonish, but I have lived here long enough now to feel the truth of that.

Ironically, less than 24 hours after submitting my article for this week's Caithness Courier in which I proudly proclaim that I do not sing that song about walking through the heather on the hill, I was tromping knee deep in heather and sang to my companion along with accompaniment of a lark.

We were in the heather--all three types are in bloom now-- looking for something in the ground.  A probable broch site (iron age North Atlantic round house is more correct term actually) shows up plainly on Google earth and we wanted to have a close look at it.

I resisted taking photos of the heather at first because it is impossible to get anything like the real feeling (cue the Brigadoon chorus), but succumbed and did my best with my wee camera on smart setting. You'll have to imagine the fragrance for yourself, alas, until you come to visit.