Alone in the conservatory, house full of people, none yet risen, is the feel of Portrush in the summer. Half an hour’s serenity before sixteen hours of clatter and movement. For now, all is still and quiet, but behind the silence is a mix tape soundtrack of the day wakening. Back door ajar, I hear … Continue reading Morning
It is a letting go time of year. The light and leaves are dropping, the colours are fading, the fruits all gone, the seed pods blown. When I’m out walking or driving east along the coast, I see huge flocks of geese fly in formation, resolute in their destination. They fly so high that the … Continue reading Under the October Twilight
The good thing about walking alone is that you have time to stop and see and take note. The bad thing is there is no one to enjoy it with. I write this for you, and I walk with you. Come with me. I’m cutting up the side of London Road Gardens. Cow parsley sways … Continue reading Come With Me
The grey heron is back. I have been watching and waiting for him, and finally I’ve been rewarded. Last year he was a fixture on Dunsapie Loch, on the east side of Arthur’s Seat. There he would stalk, or wade, or stand frozen in position like some sort of prehistoric decoy. This year he favours … Continue reading Passing Through
We have so much time to consider, these days. To consider anything and everything. To develop little obsessions, healthy and unhealthy. (Note to self: consider if is there such a thing as a healthy obsession?) My best time, the time I set for considering, is when I’m outside walking and watching, looking and noticing. I’m … Continue reading Time to Consider
Dalkeith Country Park is located at the south east edge of Edinburgh. I went there yesterday to walk in an ancient oak wood, hunkered down between the meeting of the North and South Esk Rivers. Weather and rain had undone the wood; it was resting, bare, and the mud underfoot was glorious. Even suitably booted, … Continue reading Weather and Rain Have Undone It Again
Teeming it was, when I opened the lid. A sight to behold. But I’m jumping ahead too quickly, I must tell you what came before. Months ago, E. dug the plot over. He laid a fleece down and weighted each corner with a large heavy stone; said it would suppress the tenacious - now invasive … Continue reading Worms
An apologetic shade of blue. Yes, I can remember what I was wearing quite vividly, even though it was 2003. It’s not that long ago for remembering details, is it? A cheap polyester suit in a tired, non-descript hue; a colour that doesn't make you stand out, one that’s rather sorry for itself, that looks washed … Continue reading Sign From Above
Sometimes April doesn’t keep its promise. It reneges. Burrows back down a hole, pretending it never was. It had been that way this week, when many of us had to check the calendar, only to utter, ‘Really? April 4th? Are we sure about that?’ Character building weather, one might call it, unless one is feeling delicate, … Continue reading April Showers
We walked through hail on the Cheviots, those rolling hills that straddle the border between England and Scotland. I was on the southern side, in Northumberland, when big, fat balls of hail began to prick my cheeks like tiny needles. Starting out, it was sunny and cold with no sign of hail as we trudged … Continue reading Cheviots
My Edinburgh Press 