I took a wee wander round about here the other day, and can't resist showing you some photos from my wee walk.
I love love love the sight of bales. It's probably my favourite scene in all the world.
Well, except for the sun setting on the Atlantic. And except for my kids' faces. And maybe even except for dogs.
But apart from that, fields of round bales are my favourite scene.
It was around three o'clock, so the sun was beginning to lower in the sky. That always makes for gorgeously soft hues (though this photo is dressed up too :) ).
It was so peaceful. So totally and utterly mind-renewingly peaceful.
Everywhere I looked made my heart sing. At times like these, I forget I'm Scottish. A Highlander. Reformed. Presbyterian. A Niseach, for crying out loud ... and the Charismatic part of my soul gains the upper hand.
Except silently, so I guess I remain truly Scottish, and truly Presbyterian. No shouting, no dancing, no hands in the air. But in my soul.... they're all happening.
Such total and utter beauty, and I sing:
And then the jaw-dropping beauty of the creation is overtaken with thoughts of the Creator.
- And when I think that God, His Son not sparing,
- Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
- That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
- He bled and died to take away my sin:
- When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
- And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
- Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
- And there proclaim, my God, how great Thou art!
And how can I not sing aloud:
...because He truly is great. Great above measure.