Yesterday evening, just as the sun was setting, I decided to jump in the car and head to Swainbost machair to take some photos. See, although I now live in the village of the Builder's birth, Swainbost is where I was born, where I was raised, and the beach is the beach on which I played as a child, had picnics, ran over rocks, and generally gave my mother countless heart attacks. That, I believe, is what childhood is for.
And so to Swainbost beach at the end of a perfect October day.
Looking South towards Dell,
with the last glimpse of the sun as it sets.
I wish I was able to 'show' you the sounds,
which were as wonderful as the colours you see.
The images did to my eyes,
what the sounds did to my ears.
I saw beauty.
I heard music.
An then it was Time to say Goodbye (can any of you read that and not hear Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman?)
The moon, with some lovely cloud
Looking North, towards the Butt and the Eoropie houses
At this point, I got into the car to head home. I still had to finish making the dinner, so I realized I'd better scoot home quickly. Not that I've ever been known to:
2. be late
3. drive quickly.
Lest any of you be under any misapprehensions.
And then the following happened.
My front wheel decided the best place to go would be into a rabbit hole, which had been dug by a mutant rabbit which was actually the size of a small dog. It went. It stayed. It stuck.
No phone. Nobody around. No choice but to walk. Initially, I headed off with my camera still in the car, but like any good blogger, I went back to retrieve it. That's what bloggers do, isn't it ...
I head across the machair towards Habost machair. You may be able to see the wee car in this photo.
This is the boundary between the villages. This is where the chief of the village may decide not to allow you to cross. He can, at a whim, capture you and present you as an offering to the Great Chief. You may never see your family again.
Or maybe that's just something I read a long, long time ago about a far, far away place.
I could have walked the extra hundred yards or so and crossed the bridge. But I was wearing my trusty wellies, and a hundred yards is a lot when it is unnecessary, and when you have wee Size 3s. So river-crossing it was.
Some of the cattle, grazing on Habost machair
Well, not quite. I don't mean this is where I live. One day I will, but in terms of my walk home, the cemetery told me I was almost there.
I could easily walk this walk every day of life if we had this weather every day of life.
As it happens, we don't. So don't be holding your breath for the next one...