Spring has begun to fashion herself on the Isle as golden sways of daffodils brave face in the cold. Crisp air, the kind in which washing comes off the line cold and fresh. The wind has broken leaving a welcome breeze in its wake. Washing days. I live for days such as those. I have […]Read More I simply remember my favourite things.
Harris has begun to exhale its finale breath of winter. The mountain stretching above the house on some occasions has housed a sky of cornflower blue and in the early evenings a lull has begun to break. A kind of sunny coolness that signals a change in season. The promise of ultramarine skies and balmy evenings […]Read More Feel the breeze of the Hebrides
So high up on the mountain are we at Kyles that the view of the sea coming into land is panoramic, washing the fishing boats across the front of the house with the tide. Miniature. As they cut the great expanse of water. Circled always overhead by one or two gulls anticipating the days catch. […]Read More To all the shiny bits
After having moved to The Isle of Harris there became days, encounters, conversations to which I have little recollection of. New faces blurred on mass and unknown places with foreign signage became jumbled as I tried to navigate deep waters. When you move somewhere that holds a change in culture your brain churns through information […]Read More To Grace, Amazing
Autumn has arrived in Harris and with it clusters of thick glossy berries swing from trees like over excited Christmas decorations. The wind, like an old expected friend has come knocking and with it I’ve found great comfort. One evening, as the children fell to sleep, clutching a hot water bottle I thrust my feet […]Read More Over the rainbow bridge
The air held warmth but the breeze blew cold, autumn had somehow arrived. With it came heather clad rocks, as if over night the feet of a large giant had squashed and bruised the grass below and brambles, thick with dark seeping fruits hung ready for eating. One afternoon as myself and Bea pottered around […]Read More To all that we possess: A practical guide for mind and heart
On Harris, I live in a world of two halves. One half holding the name, ‘a lot of people’ and the second half ‘hardly anyone’. They don’t mix, but I do struggle immensely to transition from one to another. For when I am in the half of ‘hardly anyone’ I never question who I am. […]Read More To all our callings
‘Do you know why those yellow poles are there? They show you where the edge of the road is when there’s snow. Remember your not in the hills. These are mountains’. Its quite easy to forget that you live upon mountain. ‘What’s it like there?’ ‘Well its like living in the lakes only amplified’ Is […]Read More To all our highest mountains
I’ve never had a lot of money, but say I did, I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea as to what to do with it. So its probably just as well I haven’t. On many occasions I have looked into wishing wells and been astonished by the sheer number of one to two pound coins thrown […]Read More To Grannie Island’s, Grannie Mainland’s and Grannie Annie’s.
Before our move to Harris and before I had even met Chris I travelled down to London to stay with my old friend Tom. I had applied for a Fine art course and I travelled down to explore whether or not I wanted to be there. I did. It was an overflowing treasure trove of […]Read More To treasure and those who find it