tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243095662012-02-10T18:58:19.144ZThe highlands of Scotland loom large in the imaginations of writers and members of the diaspora. For those who are curious, here is a perspective on life on the edge of the North from an American from the heartlands.landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.comBlogger4471100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-49217583039101912202012-02-10T18:33:00.003Z2012-02-10T18:58:19.155Z

We had been talking about in for some time--walking the Great Glen or West Highland Way or?? And of course life kept getting in the way. Each of us separately came to the idea of scaling down our expectations and the distances for our walks. My friend first proposed it--combining a bus ride and a walk. I love the pensioner gap year mixed metaphor--using our senior bus passes to travel for free

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-65628500326887714472012-01-19T10:51:00.003Z2012-01-19T11:03:47.452Z

As I drove down the hill to the harbour I saw the surge of incoming water break into crests and become the galloping horses rushing toward the shore.By the time I got to the side of the road, the biggest waves had run by. I stood briefly in the cold waiting for the next surge of big waves, but, like fish stories, you'll just have to believe that the ones that got away were bigger.After cresting

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-63625754075322217052012-01-18T10:17:00.007Z2012-01-18T10:39:20.881Z

Even if you live here, you can be astonished at how much history is so accessible --and yet so obscure. "What is that hill over there," I asked, totally oblivious--as usual--to the geography of where I am. "It is so very round." When we got back home, which is a story in its own right, and looked at where we had been on the map, we discovered that this is listed as a chambered cairn and next

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-42843436573145334752012-01-08T11:01:00.006Z2012-01-08T11:20:23.080Z

I knew it was a big ask, but hard times oblige us all to try harder. My spirit was lower than the barometric pressure yesterday and my ears were tired of the sound of the howling wind and the rain hurled at the windows in a fit of meteorological pique.Soup. I thought soup was the answer--perhaps that was what the witches had in those stereotypical cauldrons simmering on the hearth. I was

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-23699966734054310892011-12-28T20:49:00.002Z2011-12-28T21:03:33.600Z

I recently received a call that an acquaintance had had a stroke and was unconscious. Until I got the news today that she had slipped from that coma into the long sleep, I could keep believing that she might come back again. She had so recovered against all odds the previous time that she could rue the loss of the hearth rug that they had taken away to minimize the risk of her falling again.

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-35774193667896525092011-12-25T12:05:00.004Z2011-12-25T12:13:53.576Z

We just got word that Castletown Heritage Society has been shortlisted for an EPIC award. In addition to selecting a winner and runner up from each country, there is a people's choice award. To be in the running for that award, we need votes. The link below, I think, will get you there and then you just click on the Like button. http://epicawards.co.uk/shortlist/Thanks to modern technology,

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-73763518675144979972011-12-23T23:46:00.004Z2011-12-23T23:56:05.383Z

We all have our own ghosts of Christmas past, present and yet to come and Mr. Dickens urges us to invite them all to settle in around the hearth with us."Therefore, as we grow older, let us be more thankful that the circle of our Christmas assocations and of the lessons that they bring, expands! Let us welcome every one of them, and summon them to take their places by the Christmas hearth."May

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-65441298099514220662011-12-22T13:13:00.005Z2011-12-23T23:46:04.363Z

It was warmer outside than inside the house thanks to a combination of broken boiler and unusually mild weather. It was just what I needed to get me back on my favourite walk up the hill. It is so much easier to walk when not hunched against the cold and the wind or dodging rain clouds. It has been too long since I walked so I was aware of my legs and arms as they tried to find the familiar

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-73296258336797642622011-11-24T14:37:00.004Z2011-11-24T14:52:45.454Z

This is not a grocery store display. This is my kitchen after the postie delivered my Thanksgiving in a Box. I had actually lost track of the date and so it is coincidence that it arrived on Thanksgiving Day.Now what is that very British face (and very Brit name--Hugh Fearnsley-Whittingstall) doing int the midst of my American goodies? Well, Hugh's River Cottage cook book is my first Brit cook

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-21254174973864406152011-10-28T14:00:00.005Z2011-10-28T14:52:06.790Z

Grief is like a stitch in your side. You can keep going but you are not pain free. When my brother in law died suddenly this past spring, I got back to the US and managed to speak at his graveside and hopefully provided some comfort for my sister and his mother and family and friends. I kept going but nothing felt right.As with a stitch, the first pain free breath is a special joy, even if a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-41942913179121939362011-10-12T08:21:00.007Z2011-10-19T08:40:47.205Z

I have been avoiding it. Talking about the loss of two friends within a fortnight of each other compounded by the still too recent sudden death of my brother in law and another friend terminally ill. I have nibbled around the edges of it by talking to friends in the kind of code one can use with friends. I have had wine and dervish dancing which is my way of burning off the excess energy that

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-18033222048727759972011-09-26T17:59:00.005Z2011-09-26T18:14:06.810Z

There is a paradox at the beating heart of our selves: the things we most need to keep us at our best are often the first things we neglect. I took myself finally back to my hedgerow universe. The weather was not the best, but the air though grumbly was dry and as soon as my feet hit the familiar walk up the hill, I felt myself loosen back into an easy stride and my world to open up. It has

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-17580633109594499252011-09-15T11:26:00.003Z2011-09-15T11:35:11.579Z

I am tired, sad, stressed, and homesick. The after effects of shingles seem to have become as much a part of the changing of the seasons as the return of the geese. For Arctic geese, Caithness is a relatively balmy clime. Probably only for Arctic geese. My feet are already cold and it is still September by the calendar. So trying to be resourceful and support local enterprise, I looked over

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-23399748470562393762011-09-04T08:49:00.004Z2011-09-04T10:31:07.109Z

I could try to blame it on working too hard, but the truth is that serendipity often does a better job of sorting my life than I can do for myself. When I showed up a week early for our walk and lunch, of course my friend was gracious. She quickly rearranged things so that we could walk to Holborn Head. Despite the fact that Holborn Head is right on my patch and I have been here now for 7

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-27203511237297137002011-08-30T14:48:00.005Z2011-08-30T15:13:11.142Z

As a child of the 60's I probably have more than enough T shirts, but I am pleased to have added this, my first Scottish T shirt, to the collection. Each of the T shirts I have held on to as I moved and grew and outgrew some of them means something to me--gifts from friends celebrating special events, former tennis teams, previous employers, favourite haunts, good jokes, a good day out with

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-76046271612217910922011-07-30T06:58:00.002Z2011-07-30T07:18:42.909Z

I have not heard from my sister and sister in law back in Indianapolis and the news from there is rarely good because they are both in very difficult places. From here I can do little about any of it, but ironically I feel the need to get some information before I go to Norway for a fortnight. I know it is foolish because I will be no further away actually, but it has become something more

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-7421948302532333442011-07-22T08:56:00.002Z2011-07-22T09:04:05.312Z

Today when we gather to say goodbye to Ted officially, it is family flowers only, so I'll just have this little floral tribute here. I did not know him well. I might not have known him at all except for knowing his sister. They both have a smile that lights up their face and your own. Ted always smiled to see me coming when our paths crossed at the pensioner's lunch or the carvery on a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-65221774926017493742011-07-14T19:06:00.004Z2011-07-14T19:27:55.587Z

All day I had dithered about walking. The sun came out; I hung out laundry. The sun went away; I picked up a crossword puzzle. A friend was here cleaning house so while she did the basics I tackled laundry and dishes. It is very nice--even if it lasts only a moment-- to have everything clean and tidy --except for the stacks of books and bags with knit projects, but we're not talking perfection

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-35278296598883013342011-06-28T07:18:00.004Z2011-06-28T07:32:31.620Z

The sun is shining. That perhaps is part of the reason I am so distracted. When the sun shines up here, all priorities get rearranged. Suddenly it was urgent to move the languishing tomatoes onto the deck for some real sunshine and water the seeds for the warm loving plants that just might finally come out of the soil today. I would walk up the hill to see the swans on the loch but household

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-73950422542827815392011-06-26T09:07:00.004Z2011-06-26T09:33:48.778Z

The sun was shining. No sooner had I noted this along with my intention to walk than I saw rain on the windows on the back of the house. Not on the front. Ergo I would walk out the front door. Lest you think that I have stepped into Heinlein's (or was it Bradbury's?) fictional Doorway into Summer, let me offer an anecdote about the wisdom to be learned from cats and a reminder about

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-29979612840503893682011-06-10T11:49:00.005Z2011-06-10T12:12:14.765Z

New Lanark is a beautiful site. The first layer of attraction is the actual stone and mortar--carefully restored with a sharp eye to adaptive reuse--meaning the spirit and essence is retained while making them actually useable. That useability is another attraction. New Lanark was a hardworking industrial site and very profitable--at least for quite some time--because it looked continually at

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-32511205093075573432011-05-24T08:27:00.003Z2011-05-24T08:31:49.143Z

The wind whipped around yesterday as if we were in the giant mixing bowl of some manic meringue maker. Now we have another cloud of volcanic dust maybe winging its way to us, but until I have to start vacuuming up some alien dust from the innards of the earth, I am enjoying the comparative calm. Despite the cold wind and the continuing peevishness of left over gust-lets, there is a warmth and a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-37885942569558747062011-05-18T10:04:00.004Z2011-05-18T10:23:36.988Z

Treasures from the top of the hill and down the road. The best treasures are the things you find when you are not looking. I was walking up the hill trying not to notice the slight heaviness that might be the beginning of an ache when I noticed my friend at the top of the hill outside with her granddaughter in a pram. So I walked down her road and then we were into the house, a cuppa, playing

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-23073325665794943642011-05-04T07:31:00.001Z2011-05-04T07:44:56.119Z

The nightmares have stopped: Dreaming that I am awake and can't remember where I am with an urgency that I need to be somewhere else and I can't know where else is until I know where here is.But during the waking hours, names and faces on this side of the pond are conflated and muddled with names and faces from the other side of the pond and both time and place are jumbled. Thus, I struggle to

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-1224819658126247272011-05-02T08:29:00.003Z2011-05-02T08:58:05.347Z

Sometimes the best to be said about a trip is that you went, did the best you could, and made it back again. I thought it a good idea to take a lesson from my sister's quackers.They spend the night in the barn to avoid the critters for whom they look more like dinner than companions. They hurry in not because they are afraid of the critters that lurk in the night but because their food awaits

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-75765310043891872402011-04-06T15:10:00.003Z2011-04-06T15:24:08.446Z

I never thought that reading fairy tales would be a good preparation for dealing with life. When I took up a career as a technical writer, I never got around to mentioning my lifelong affection for fairy tales, fantasy (only occasionally as merged with science fiction as in Arthur Clarke epics), and poetry. As with so many things we learn, the practical application may come years later, if at

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-61438592897659499132011-03-28T22:40:00.007Z2011-04-01T08:07:51.918Z

I have always preferred the company of cats to the rambunctious, slobbery affection of dogs, but there is something about a dog that lifts your spirits in a way that no cat can.Of course cats know when you are upset and offer their support as lap warmer, gentle conversationalist, or sometimes just sitting close by and keeping a watchful eye on you. All that is much appreciated, but for sheer

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-51837218804245040642011-03-06T12:01:00.004Z2011-03-06T12:26:50.108Z

I have been at a loss for words many times in my life. I have also had panic attacks at a keyboard or typewriter that froze my fingers or curdled my prose, but the past month I have had the place that words come from stuck tighter than an accordion with its leather strap firmly in place and stowed in its carrying case.I am not altogether certain what caused that clamping down, but fortunately it

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-2805980215045818742011-02-01T15:47:00.002Z2011-02-01T15:50:57.832Z

Over here buzzard is used not just for the unfeathered heads of carrion feeders but also for hawks. Nonetheless whenever I drive past the hawk on his perch overlooking the road just hoping for a dead rabbit, I am transported back to the many cartoon images of buzzards. A misspent youth nae doot.When I drove into the village still clinging to the hope that the weather would clear enough for a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-48763255539238927402011-01-25T10:46:00.009Z2011-01-25T11:44:58.706Z

I am not noted for my patience. Waiting is a supreme test of patience and hopefulness. Because for me hopefulness is tied to plans of action until I know which way the chips are falling, the plans of action and hence my hopefulness lie formless.Knitting, as well as brushing your hair, can be a makeshift antidote for inchoate, would be hopefulness. A good hair comb smooths the hair and the

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-14291806414637959242011-01-23T13:38:00.003Z2011-01-23T13:49:55.304Z

Last week the newsreader said the pundits said January 17th was the gloomiest day and then gave a precis of the pseudoscientific reasoning behind it, as if we don't have enough to be gloomy about on our own. As is often the case up here, the picture post card day belied the "experts" yet again. Truth in advertising compels me to say that not every day up here is like a picture post card, but

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-43540507469596539552011-01-08T10:20:00.002Z2011-01-10T11:33:21.422Z

My parents --both decidely urban in their outlook, although my mother was only a half step away from the farm liked to joke about how the army had trained farm boys to march by replacing "right" and "left" with "hay foot" and "straw foot." I'm sure it was an exaggeration at best or more likely an early version of an urban legend. Nonetheless it popped into my head recently as I was struggling to

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-34837220608457444322011-01-02T13:11:00.007Z2011-01-02T13:34:04.691Z

There have been times when I should have gone a bit further and didn't, and of course the converse as well. Because the walk to the first gate that leads on to the loch through mucky water and reeds had been easy and the weather amicable enough, I decided to go on a bit further and find the rough road on high ground leading to the loch. It was not much further--as is often the case--and I was

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-38747409959772605442010-12-27T10:07:00.001Z2010-12-27T10:09:51.417Z

The days are getting imperceptibly longer. We place our faith in things we cannot see, so I place my faith in the few seconds more of precious daylight as the earth wobbles its way into a new season. Meanwhile, I enjoy the feasts of light and colour that this season offers. The shot above was taken just after the fiery orb slipped below the horizon. The twilight seems to linger longer now

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-54677015912270361542010-12-24T11:23:00.000Z2010-12-24T11:23:36.079Z

The Christmas spirit very nearly eluded me this year. The weather has been cold, the economy and the political situation seem more and more nonsensical each day, and I have been sick. Not desperately ill, but at best in that zombie state between full health and in bed.Christmas was not shining brightly enough to get through, but I woke this morning and pulled out an old favourite Christmas T

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-16043481973159197272010-12-17T10:33:00.003Z2010-12-17T11:24:04.928Z

The new feeder is nearly empty and the suet balls are swaying in the wind. I am taking this in from the comparative safety of my kitchen window through wind blown snow or hail. I know I will have to refill the feeder and just hope to catch a bit of a break in the weather in which to do that. I sip my coffee and watch the birds teetering on branches or trying to synchronize their movements with

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-88071449242416471362010-12-16T12:19:00.002Z2010-12-16T12:21:19.519Z

I went out in the cold bright light of a snowy blowy day to take photos like this--placid sheep, snow clad reeds. The wind was blowing so hard that I had to hunker down and make myself as small as possible to get this shot. All this is within sight of my house, so I was not an intrepid explorer or sturdy hill walker. And as I walked, I kept an eye on the sky. This little patch of maybe

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-231811426935862372010-12-10T16:46:00.003Z2010-12-10T16:52:03.703Z

I was naive enough to think the floods would be only for our less fortunate cousins to the south, but water has its own secret ways. Our new house is up high--a disadvantage with winds, but and advantage with water. I guess you choose your element and take your chances. The old farmhouse regularly flooded at the back door as water ran into the close and overwhelmed the drain there. I am

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-21988921489765961522010-12-09T12:46:00.003Z2010-12-09T12:57:13.577Z

The snow is melting, but the sky is a tell tale grey--something is coming. More snow? freezing fog--yes, there is such a thing, or sleet or frozen rain or something in between? Edinburgh called on the army to help them dig out. Up here, farm vehicles went to work on side roads and farm roads. If you are a regular blog reader, you have heard about single track roads--those roads just wide

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-40668827503472333072010-11-30T09:39:00.006Z2010-12-06T19:35:33.541Z

The first snowfall--too much and too early for this new neighbourhood of mine--sent me scurrying to set up the bird feeders. The suet balls are more attractive than disco balls to the birds. This chaffinch was one of the first visitors. When I added a seed feeder to the usual bread crumbs in the yard and an extra suet ball or two, the party really started happening. Mr and Mrs chaffinch, a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-74604124467507507822010-11-27T14:14:00.001Z2010-11-27T14:33:30.539Z

We have had the first snowfall of the season. It is too early. I sat swathed in woolly clothes and accompanied by two cats. I could have ignored the snow, but the magic of first snow was calling to me. Between snow showers, the sun bathed the landscape in the warm golden light of the season. And so, I pulled on even more woolly clothes, set my cats aside, and put on boots and took my camera

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-23353270569115663142010-11-23T12:12:00.002Z2010-11-24T16:12:06.855Z

Most people when they think of the Highlands think first of stunning scenery --well, maybe the Clearances or tragic history comes first to mind, but scenery certainly is right up there. As well it should be because each season offers spectacular views both on a giant scale of double rainbows arching over the sky and shimmering above the water or golden light exposing tiny clusters of red beads

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-61325593797291846602010-11-16T09:41:00.000Z2010-11-16T09:41:38.355Z

The sun, in its brief course today will melt the edges off this leaf, but I caught the early morning shiver as we walked along the hedgerow. The sun stays flat this time of year--people call it a lazy sun --because it never gets very high in the sky. Dark lingers until 8am; sunset by 4pm. The leaf and I both have to make the best of the lazy sun. If you look carefully, you can see a hard

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-19857675005101201952010-11-14T13:40:00.004Z2010-11-14T14:02:58.801Z

I have been galomphing along at a frantic pace. All the things I chose to do, I enjoyed. I don't regret a single one, but saying yes to things inevitably means saying no to others. That's what I regret all the things that had to be set aside as I moved at what seemed a snail's pace through a whirlwind of activities.In a bit of a pendulum swing I have found myself now saying No nearly as often

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-43777156253735857522010-11-01T18:51:00.005Z2010-11-03T09:11:41.724Z

We all have them. Shadows on the heart. Those spots that when you run across them much like your tongue running along to find the wobbly baby tooth, you give a little sigh or shed a tear or shrug your shoulders against a sudden chill. As adults we like to think that children are immune, but with children each disjunction in their young lives is loaded with existential angst. The world is new and

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-27176048736565719492010-10-27T09:59:00.004Z2010-11-01T15:23:02.960Z

It was a casual comment, which, like the elephant's nose, grew out of curiosity. I said I was curious and my friend said, "So you're an elephant's child, too?" She's a kind heart so I did not think it was anything untoward, but my mind moved up and down the racks of information stores in my brain like the arm of an old fashioned juke box looking for B47. The non match must have played across

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-49585712312791955962010-10-18T23:16:00.003Z2010-10-18T23:41:12.969Z

A blatter of hail, a plump of rainthen just enough sun to dry up again.Almost Clothes on the line flap in the breeze;They dry fast if they don't freeze. A gale from the north, a gust from the westsometimes the storms give us a rest.Almost Clothes on the line flap in the breeze;They dry fast if they don't freeze. First we had summer, then we had fall.When it comes to seasons we get them all.Almost

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-29453776063027498892010-10-14T12:33:00.004Z2010-10-14T12:58:02.939Z

I did not make it to this year's ploughing match with vintage tractors. I like watching the earth open up and admire the skill to manoeuvre the vehicles in a straight line. The simpler the machinery the more apparent is the skill behind it. I like the smell of the earth as it turns over. There is a poetry and a comfort in the traditionalness of it all.I got the better part of it though when I

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-36559632514087496362010-10-13T10:43:00.003Z2010-10-13T11:11:30.991Z

I went along as I so often do when an epiphany is lurking thinking I was just helping fill out the numbers for an event competing for attention with several events in both Thurso and Wick. The Mod is here. A celebration of Gaelic song and culture. The population of Thurso has nearly been doubled by the influx of visitors. Castletown is a bit off the beaten track so despite having a famous and

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-20600578789211563892010-09-30T10:45:00.001Z2010-09-30T10:52:37.982Z

I have been in the doldrums. I don't know where that is, so finding my way in and out is always a bit tricky. I am homesick but otherwise quite OK except that too many people around me are struggling with troubles and travail and I feel helpless.It has not helped that the weather has been even by our standards just desperate---cold and grey or wet and grey or grey and sulky. Now I like grey.

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-1137270881963937992010-09-22T11:05:00.003Z2010-09-22T11:15:48.307Z

Dotted among the other activities for the past couple weeks have been some lovely discoveries as a result of conversations with Book People. By the bedside I have the book that was at the heart of a favourite film, Venus Peter (book title is Twelvemonth and a Day).In the living room is an American poet from the beat generation whose work I had never heard of before. I get as excited about new

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-83696941498881833232010-09-20T20:57:00.003Z2010-09-20T21:14:35.970Z

We headed for Helmsdale to catch the 9:47 to Inverness because we had a friend that we were reluctant to see go. It was raining and probably the things we managed to see en route were of no special consequence, but it was a good run. A quick glance at the Camster Cairns, a nod at trees growing slowly, and long swathes of heather and gorse punctuated with sheep.I realize when I look at it with

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-76479248472420665462010-09-17T10:04:00.002Z2010-09-17T10:29:36.125Z

It hit me as I was trying to put order into the house before my guest arrives--a Herculean task at the best of times--and I was collecting things for an upcoming workshop on felting and so writing in my head what I would say/do. As the phrase "discipline of laying out fibres in tile wise fashion" came into my head, I realised that the only way to make peace with the struggle in my own mind

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-7104966445515471792010-08-28T15:37:00.004Z2010-08-28T15:52:45.399Z

Mind the proprioceptors--those hard working guardians of our homeostatic selves in space. I disregarded mine and thought I knew where my ankle was and went sprawling. I heard a tell tale snap crackle pop as my equally hard working ligaments or tendons tried making up for the disorientation of no communication from the proprioceptors. So lacking any spatial information they held the best line

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-15257360142324101522010-08-23T13:41:00.004Z2010-08-23T14:20:24.176Z

"Forever Young" is the title of a song, a bad movie with Mel Gibson, and the name of my brother and sister in law's boat. They called their boat "Forever Young" after the Bob Dylan song, which describes simply and lyrically a good way to live: "May your heart always be joyful/And may your song always be sung. May you stay forever young."It overlooks the other part of being young --feeling

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-13899283551107727582010-08-07T08:39:00.003Z2010-08-07T08:58:49.382Z

I used to think that "hare" was a synonym for "rabbit." I also had never unpacked the fact behind the expression "mad as a March hare." I thought about both of these hare-related data points as I drove slowly home with one zig zagging along the road in front of me. The roads up here are good, if narrow, but have to be shared with all critters who happen to be passing that way. In the twilight

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-59328481255743842932010-08-02T08:08:00.002Z2010-08-02T08:17:04.851Z

I'm sure not even Martha Stewart could answer the question that surged through my brain as I made frantic, anxious last minute preparations for having a party. Red wine should be room temperature, so I was going to bring it into the warmth of the house from its storage in the garage and then I got myself stuck: if you are serving red wine in a cardboard box, is it a hopeless affectation to fret

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-37097826416751412282010-07-30T07:54:00.006Z2010-07-30T08:33:45.279Z

A lay by is the little goiter dotted strategically along single-track roads. It allows a vehicle to pull over and let an oncoming vehicle use the main road. I have also described them as aneurysms, but goiter seems less sinister and volatile. They are oases, an opportunity to practice a model of negotiated space and social agreeableness in a constrained setting, and an integral part of both

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-90864504321887722392010-07-24T14:46:00.004Z2010-07-24T15:09:08.536Z

We have not had many visitors this summer until the past two weeks. Three Orcadians came across the Firth. Orcadians are always good company.More recently we had family from Norway visiting.Connections. Making connections. Keeping Connections. It is the heartbeat of us all. Some times the simplest things linger. A few words on a summer day are enough to recall and reconnect. I like to think

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-69754412763339251322010-07-14T09:16:00.007Z2010-07-14T09:42:50.767Z

The afternoon sessions are my favourite because they seem so unhurried. I have been missing Tuesdays because I was heading down south to learn something for my project or I was leading a workshop at Castlehill. I was very happy doing those things, but I missed my Tuesdays around a kitchen table with my knitting needles in hand and my ears tuned for the good craic. I could tell it had been a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-8526970453663642532010-07-08T21:09:00.002Z2010-07-08T21:23:12.038Z

For the first time I did not have to travel all the way to Edinburgh by myself. There were too many advantages to having my friends there to list them all, so I'll just sum them up under Girls Rules. Women just naturally know better how to have a good time.I worked right up to about an hour before my presentation and then relaxed in the "green room"--a seating area outside the conference room

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-8941248910413043722010-06-21T13:28:00.004Z2010-06-21T13:55:32.525Z

I am not now nor have I ever been a numbers person. Oh, I am not phobic and I can do the necessary arithmetic for groceries, knitting pattern adjustments and converting Centigrade to Fahrenheit and so on, but given my preference, I'd estimate or rely on a quantitative assessment that was more of a summary--"too much" "too big" "too little" etc. More than that is just well, details. And I tend

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-54463514194136741682010-06-15T13:05:00.002Z2010-06-15T13:23:08.323Z

It has been a too-long, too-cold winter. And a reluctant spring has been damp and coldish with occasional mild days just to remind us that it is not really winter or to tease us with what we are missing. Recently the air hung so heavily that nearly everyone had headaches. Remarkably, it has been a good season for orchids. Here in the north of Scotland we have grand scenes of rocks and shorelines

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-22804151587002168062010-06-14T19:12:00.003Z2010-06-14T19:38:45.198Z

It was World Wide Knit in Public Day June 12, ergo we knit in public--on the pedestrian precinct in Thurso and in the education room in Caithness Horizons--to be precise.The whimsy of a holiday based on knitting is enough to compel some of us to take to the streets, especially if we have already been known to knit in public.The baby boomer feminist/knitting nana/poet and former part time

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-63068962365694655922010-06-08T10:20:00.002Z2010-06-08T12:25:31.852Z

I like travelling. I do. I like trains. I like Edinburgh. I like the folks I'll be seeing on this next part of the NESTA take-an-idea-and-make-it-into-a-project journey, so why I am going about packing like a reluctant school girl dragging my feet on the first day of school? I am tired. The kind of deep down tired that needs more than one night's sleep or a massage--although both of those

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-77843068486553111612010-06-03T22:29:00.001Z2010-06-03T22:33:09.270Z

What is rare as a day in June.... A day warm enough and still enough to sit outside with the umbrella up. An al fresco day in Caithness is rare indeed.Today I got to share it with several friends. We had lots of work to do, so naturally we had chocolate and tea and coffee and some grapes to make us feel less guilty about the chocolate.And of course knitting.

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-59644049958279356822010-06-01T08:33:00.005Z2010-06-01T08:51:50.484Z

We teach what we need to learn. Peter Elbow, I think, said that. He was one of my heroes when I borrowed courage from someone more wise than I to walk into a class full of adults and presume to tell them how to do something. Telling folks how to do something is usually pretty easy for me--unless it has to do with directions; telling them why they should do it has always been more

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-23607437472974183722010-05-21T08:34:00.004Z2010-05-27T17:10:22.764Z

Haiku for a poet long dead remembered after his death:Robert Fergusson, 1750-1774Poetry prevailsbeyond a brief, Bedlammed lifeflowered words in stoneJust off the Canongate road on the way to take photos for a friend's school assignment and just before my camera battery wore out, I met a poet in bronze. He lived a short life--after falling down stairs at his place of work after his father's death

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-52483917065496268322010-05-20T09:29:00.003Z2010-05-20T09:33:30.703Z

The wind let us fly here. A friend challenged me to come up with connections--things that bring us together or keep us apart.And I must do it in 5 mins before my time runs out in internet cafeTwin set and pearls--J Peterman T shirtRegistered --NotInside our B and B looking out on Japanese tourists with cameras, soon the roles reversed I'll be there with my camera.OK, R. One down out of 4 was it

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-16599332939211652042010-05-17T07:56:00.004Z2010-05-17T11:11:37.361Z

The phrase--depending on which way the wind blows-- has a whole new meaning now that we sit under the volcanic dust cloud from Iceland. As I type this, Heathrow is open, but Edinburgh airport is closed. Since I want to fly from here to Edinburgh Wednesday morning, I care more about Edinburgh than Heathrow, which may have its own troubles with an industrial action by British Airways, even if the

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-33632665153399399392010-05-10T08:02:00.002Z2010-05-10T08:18:22.033Z

In case anyone wonders about the variety of language up here. To Orcadians, this bird is a bonxie. In the more proper language, it is a Skua --a Great Skua, I believe. I left the photo relatively uncropped because I want to give you a taste of how big and empty the hills are. This bonxie and a couple others were cruising low about our ears, presumably because they had nests near by. Even skuas--

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-16328478230960779992010-05-06T10:24:00.008Z2010-05-06T10:42:11.415Z

As I was planting out the first of the refugees of my Noah's Ark of plants from the old garden, I couldn't help but notice how many stones there were in the soil. My first "published" writing in Scotland was a letter to Kitchen Garden magazine --with photos-- about how I was de-rocking the soil for a kitchen gardenAlong the way to courgettes and several failed attempts at tomatoes, I also

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-33753202313984090132010-04-26T10:22:00.004Z2010-04-26T10:44:59.540Z

I have waited a couple days in the hopes that I had just missed the part of the furore that I was expecting, but I have heard about the apology to the Pope and the assurance that senior ministers did not see the Official document and all the back pedaling about "brainstorming," "admittedly far fetched," "young," etc. For those of you--especially my US readers--who do not have the background on

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-62499065656001800942010-04-22T09:26:00.002Z2010-04-23T10:24:47.781Z

I love heather, which along with a fondness for rocks, goes a long way toward making my life here more fun. Brigadoon and that lilting sentimental song "Walking through the heather on the hill" were the only items stored in the database under "Heather" until I came here. The experience is analagous to my revelation when a painting I had seen only as a postage-stamp size photo in an art history

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-62868903209421974552010-04-21T17:38:00.005Z2010-04-22T09:18:28.294Z

It could not have been better timed if it had been scripted. I was wrestling with a mega-deadline and my energy has been somewhat depleted. I could not find high gear. I was trying to pretend that I was in any gear at all by making the equivalent of putt putt noises to myself. Puttering with this project and that one and putting in a load of laundry when I should have been writing. And on one of

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-39667424768057709312010-04-13T21:43:00.006Z2010-04-14T08:41:41.992Z

It made no sense at all. I had begged off all other commitments and was hunkered down to clean house, correct my short story for tonight's writing group meeting at my house (hence the urgency behind housework), so naturally along with vacuuming and mopping and picking up odd pieces I decided to dye some wool with daffodils.OK it makes sense if you know about this other, formerly secret side of

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-7305771791992113122010-04-12T19:40:00.001Z2010-04-12T19:42:12.853Z

Ms Piggy asked for more rocks, so here is a photo of my latest pet rocks, plucked from the waves at Portskerra.Today, fortunately, was a little grey and dampish--a mizzly kind of day. The cool grey air was almost a relief after the glorious bright days we have had. I think Caithnessians are a little like the folks Garrison Keillor talks about in Lake Woebegone: too much sunshine would be too

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-60754283947263626782010-04-11T16:37:00.003Z2010-04-11T21:27:07.628Z

Perhaps you could live here, but I am sure you could not live here contentedly unless you have a fondness for rocks, or develop one. The weather here has been lovely--golden sun, calm water, fresh air. When this happens, we all head out to enjoy whatever can be done under this clear blue dome. The large photo above is from one of my favourite small harbours out west. I especially love the

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-91717186855029603482010-04-05T18:42:00.002Z2010-04-05T18:50:01.910Z

It was bucketing rain this morning and cold. The wind was not quixotic as it has been, but persistent and so wet that the air was heavy. The sky was grey and it looked as if the very heavens were going to be wrung out and deposited on us before the day was done.The day will clear, Morris says. I heard two larks singing. They know better than we do. I was prepared to believe in the wisdom of

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-53285146175640051802010-03-31T10:26:00.009Z2010-03-31T11:42:57.164Z

Arguably we start dying from the moment we are born, but we choose not to think about that. You could say we forget about it, or as long as there is life there is hope. Age, accident, or illness can remind us of those daily little deaths. It is never a welcome reminder.I got two last week. The first was the logical, expected outcome of a long illness that has been dubbed the long goodbye. My

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-33308115960228906932010-03-25T10:27:00.003Z2010-03-25T10:47:08.998Z

Sound. I often talk about the things I see but not as often the things I hear around me. I was obliged to think about sound recently by two disparate events--but life is never a tidy narrative.Curlews are large birds, so I discovered. Although normally wading birds, they come a long way from water to nest. All this I discovered first by happy accident--a large curlew-beaked bird was walking in

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-13203774442950911462010-03-18T11:16:00.002Z2010-03-18T21:59:42.786Z

I was so busy looking at my lovely lichens that I nearly tripped over these snowdrops in a lonely wee clump by the gate into a field. I don't know if they were planted by purpose but they look like a happy accident.A happy accident twice over. I had seen on my walk a lovely set of snowdrops in a field by a house. I was thinking how I might screw up the courage to knock on the door and ask if I

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-28114060785517138842010-03-18T10:55:00.002Z2010-03-18T11:08:32.343Z

I usually walk down to the moss in front of the house. I have walked up the hill a couple times for a breathtaking view from the top, but today I kept walking to the loch and a bit down the other side of the hill.If I had been a bit less distracted by the view and faster with my camera, I might have had a wonderful shot of some of these large white birds flying overhead from one loch to another.

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-64032778379514257152010-03-16T10:26:00.002Z2010-03-16T10:54:59.674Z

Hanging around with anthropologists in my uni days left interesting facotids lodged in my brain. Among them, that baboons can count to five. Apparently this was determined by sending men into a field and then having them leave one by one while baboons watched safely from the shelter of the trees. When 5 men left, apparently the baboons thought all the men were gone--or, perhaps they got bored

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-76199904749445027102010-03-09T18:29:00.006Z2010-03-09T18:49:31.936Z

This is the central motif of the armorial insignia of the city of Glasgow. I found this one on the lamposts outside Kelvingrove, but it can be found in various forms and media all over the part of Glasgow they like to call the Style Mile.The architect for this building, Kelvingrove art gallery and museum, was also a sculptor, so the inside and outside of the building are chock a block with three

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-4333580292702075222010-02-28T20:31:00.001Z2010-02-28T20:32:51.766Z

A sunny Sunday was enough to prompt us out into the golden sun. First to church and attempts at visits--up here the old fashioned tradition of just dropping in is still observed. It allows people to be more spontaneous but it also means you may not find anyone at home. Today we didn't and so we ventured further into the west just the two of us.After lunch in what was our local before we

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-3896605189952604832010-02-24T17:49:00.002Z2010-02-24T18:02:24.424Z

The wind is growling like a cat with a mouse he does not want to share, the snow gates down south are already closed, and the snow is still coming down hard. I need a little diversion, so here's a wee story for a snowy day. When I first saw wool on the barbed wire, it looked like prayer flags to me. I even wrote a bit of poetry about it. Since then I have learned more about it. It can be a

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-35491569340677925672010-02-24T09:57:00.001Z2010-02-24T10:16:56.533Z

The new house offers many advantages over the old one, not least of which is that we can have people in for dinner and conversations or coffee and conversations or a drink and conversations. In case you hadn't figured it out by now, I love a good conversation. I was chuffed yesterday when a friend just dropped in on his way home from Wick. It was so good to see him. I popped the kettle on and

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-55036894936387681092010-02-23T09:32:00.003Z2010-02-23T10:05:49.781Z

I didn't realize quite how jangled my mind had been until I began to feel it relaxing in a 2-hour yoga and meditation session. Sometimes if we are lucky--and I think that I am--the answers find us before we have even quite rolled up the question. The yoga teacher was in the hotel and we chatted and she said come along to her class. I knew that she had taught a 5am class and demurred on that

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-45957811095746248712010-02-21T11:26:00.003Z2010-02-21T11:38:56.563Z

The words slipped as easily off the keyboard as any others in the perfect democracy of QWERTY, but landed heavily. "rare disease that has affected my lungs has reached my heart". She didn't say she was dying, but death swirled into the room while the music in the far room played a cheerful pop tune that conjured images of a red flowered chintz curtain blowing in a summer breeze. I wanted not

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-45236670337214947752010-02-14T20:39:00.001Z2010-02-18T09:27:20.530Z

After too much domesticity, I needed to feel the wind--even a cold wind--running through my hair. If you live here you have to like living under a giant sky dome. After my first foray into using goose fat for roast potatoes (good, not greasy as I had fretted) but a bit tricky to manage, and socializing with friends over coffee, I needed a bit more openness. After a day of grey skies, the clouds

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-52171151037746167442010-02-11T13:06:00.006Z2010-02-21T21:52:45.603Z

I believe that if you love Caithness (not everyone does surprisingly), then you never really leave it. I have already been here long enough to have seen as many friends leave as I did in my days as a faculty wife--a postdoc for two years, a visiting fellow, a trailing spouse who patiently waits her turn and then two or three years spent where she could get a job. After a while it became harder

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-58830500948277376342010-02-09T12:04:00.001Z2010-02-09T12:09:25.863Z

The rooks may have eluded me, but there is no denying these catkins on the willow. willows are hopeful but sturdy. They would not let a few sunny days fool them. I do believe. I do believe.I was not sure what to expect today because last night's shipping forecast suggested winds of 4 to 5 mph but from the direction of the north--a dreaded northerly even if at the moderate speed of 4 is enough

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-37053125310120159492010-02-04T13:49:00.003Z2010-02-04T14:31:31.299Z

The light was disappearing almost as fast as the Rooks. I wanted a shot of the rooks like the scene yesterday over the rooftops at Castlehill--the heritage centre on the grounds of the old flagstone works. I was impatient because I had already done several things wrong. I should never have been cameraless. I should not expect to get a shot like something seen yesterday where things vary moment

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-45622701076937549332010-02-02T09:08:00.003Z2010-02-02T09:44:11.780Z

Snowed again. And cold. I was content to spend the day inside, but a friend needed us and the company would be good for us as well, so we braved the cold and the swirling snow late afternoon to join them at their house a few short miles from here. Fortunately, the sun was still up when we left. It lingers longer now and brings a bit more warmth with it--even swaddled in snow clouds. When we

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-10498718834825578022010-01-23T09:21:00.002Z2010-01-23T09:33:05.959Z

Some places in Caithness seem to me to echo with the sounds of the people once there. This building near the harbour at Castletown was part of the flagstone works but it struck me the first time I saw it as a house with a startled expression that no one had come back to it. Perhaps that is the influence of too many Disney cartoons in my impressionable youth. I recalled it again the other night

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-78531423509028750392010-01-17T18:30:00.002Z2010-01-17T18:38:28.918Z

A day between weathers is what we might otherwise call a break in the weather. Today was one of those breathers. The snow has retreated; ice and snow linger only in cold patches hither and yon. As I walked the roadway along the moss this morning, my boots felt a little slip with each step; the temperature is still cold: ice is not far away. It nipped at my fingers as I pulled off the mitten

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-21500524991844920482010-01-13T10:11:00.003Z2010-01-13T10:24:20.121Z

Just a quick note to say that the weather is easing and a local wind farm project, after much wrangling and contentiousness, has been approved. I think it will be good for the community--local energy, renewable, low impact on the environment, several much needed jobs, and a constant contribution to a community fund. I naively thought that the decision made, we could all get on with working

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-48562342571555268182010-01-05T10:01:00.009Z2010-01-05T10:39:49.290Z

Although the weather has not hit us as hard as further south, nonetheless we are feeling the effects of the longest cold snap snowstorm for more than decade. The train cannot get through due to deep snow, so soon mail and supplies will be even slower than usual. The woman who runs the cafe in the Cape Wrath lighthouse went south to buy their Christmas turkey and has not made it home yet. She is

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24309566.post-51103058393274591232009-12-29T11:01:00.004Z2009-12-31T16:37:06.808Z

For my American readers, I want to share the lessons I have learned about important distinctions between:fruit cake and Christmas puddingChristmas pudding and Christmas cakeThe best thing is just to relax: Christmas pudding though it sounds like it could be a fruitcake, isn't. Actually, it's more like a posh fly cemetery where they have all been pickled in brandy. Fly cemetery is the fairly

landgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656482044132959956noreply@blogger.com1