July's Trip to Lewis

You know, sometimes when we go through a time of trial, our trial becomes so all-consuming that all our blessings are seen through the light - or darkness, rather - of that trial. And so, instead of counting our many blessings, which are greater than we can articulate and more numerous than we can count, we mope and weigh down our heart with our woes and our afflictions.

I was reading Psalm 105 yesterday, and these words sprung off the page and into (I hope) my heart:

1.O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon His name: make known His deeds among the people.

2 Sing unto Him, sing psalms unto Him: talk ye of all His wondrous works.

3 Glory ye in His holy name: let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord.

4 Seek the Lord, and His strength: seek His face evermore.

5 Remember His marvellous works that He hath done; His wonders, and the judgments of His mouth;

6 O ye seed of Abraham His servant, ye children of Jacob His chosen.

7 He is the Lord our God: His judgments are in all the earth.

8 He hath remembered His covenant for ever, the word which He commanded to a thousand generations.

With this in mind, I am going to write a couple of blog posts about our recent trip home. 

Home is the Isle of Lewis. Obviously.

The posts will be weighed in favour of photos rather than of words, and when you see the photos, you'll understand why:

Catherine, Caleb, and I took a trip to Harris along with my sister, Marina, and my niece, Iona.

To say we were almost bowled over by the beauty of God's creation around us is an understatement. Here, Catherine and Caleb and looking out on Loch Seaforth, enjoying the peace and tranquility it affords.

Erm, hang on. Did I say peace and tranquility? And did you actually believe me, considering I'd already told you my sister was with us.

Really, shame on your naivety.

I call it 'youngest child syndrome', and many of you not-youngest-siblings will agree that the condition is widespread and is utterly non-treatable.

This wee fella. What can I say? Other than that I love him so very, very much.

Honestly, almost around every corner, we ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the beauty before us. The weather was gorgeous - about 25C (77F), with a gentle breeze to keep away midges and, as you see, stunningly blue skies. In other words: perfection.

There is no doubt that our wonderful Creator, who showered such delights on us, is a God of design and beauty and kindness. What therapy for mind and soul these views are!

We stopped off at Horgabost, had our picnic lunch on the machair, and then enjoyed a couple of hours on the sands.

As you see, even on the most perfect of days, our island beaches have plenty space for all visitors. Crowded beaches are not something we know anything of in Lewis or Harris!

Caleb was flying high, enjoying the attention, undoubtedly, more than the scenery. 

And surrounded by all of us, attention was most certainly not in short supply.

How could it be, when he is such an adorable bundle of utter joy?!

Did I mention joy? Yes, I have so many blessings to bring joy to my heart, and of temporal blessings, this wee guy is most certainly a big part of that.

"And no matter what kind of face you put on, young man, Granny is still going to smother you in love and hugs and kisses."

Aye, probably even when you're a teenager. Now, wont that be fun!

Such Beauty

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:

When through the woods and forest glades I wander

And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;

When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur

And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze:

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:

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee:

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee:

How great Thou art, how great Thou art!

...because He truly is great. Great above measure.

A New Morning Walk

Those of you with good memories and who used to read the blog when we lived in treeless-looking-onto-the-Atlantic Ness may remember a post from way back showing photos of my early morning walk. The post can be seen here, but I'll post a photo from that post - just one - to give you some idea of the contrast between the beauty that surrounded me then and the beauty that surrounds me now.

What do you see? Well, there's a whole lot of sky; a whole lot of flat land; and not a tree in sight. 

But that was then, and this is now:

See how different my surrounding countryside is! Amazingly fertile farmland in the distance, some very green grass on which cows were grazing last week, and trees.

If you join me on my walk, you'll see there are lots and lots of trees.

Here I am heading down the hillside, and facing East. To a great extent, the direction matters not, because the sky is hidden by trees. The surrounding countryside is hidden by trees.

Have I mentioned trees? Yes, I've now walked East, North, and am now heading West. As I said ... the direction matters little: we have trees.

But just as I begin to think there is nothing left in the world but trees. Just as I begin to feel I need to breathe, I get a glimpse of the stunningly open farmland beyond the forest.

And I feel like I can breathe. And I am aware of  a spontaneous smile on my face.

And sky! Blue, open, spacious, wide sky. 

I could almost dance! 

I look behind me at the trees, 

and look again to the north-west. I savour every open mile to which my eyes can stretch. I drink it in because I know that very soon,

instead of open spaces, instead of farmed fields, and hints of distant mountains ...

instead of the glorious patchwork of growth, of planting, and of harvest ...

I will soon be walking under an umbrella of trees.

The sun is hidden, the views have gone,

and all I have is greenery and shadows.

If anything shows how much of a Niseach I am at heart, it's my reaction to all the trees that surround us here. Now, don't get me wrong - I love trees ... when they're at a distance. But I can't get my head around why people choose to live in houses surrounded by beautiful countryside which is hidden from view by trees!

I'm quite sure when the good ol' folks planted all these trees long, long ago, they did not mean for us all to spend our lives hidden away, out of sight of the beauty. I'm sure they'd tell us, if they could, to cut them down. Loads of them ... just chop them down, folks!

You see, I'm from Lewis - specifically from Ness, and we don't really do trees there. We like to look out our windows and see. Far. 

Remember when I used to look out our windows and see the crofts, the machair, and then the Atlantic all the way to the horizon. I was used to space.

And much as I love - and I really do love - the scenery around here, I have decided that if and when we end up building a home out here, my first criteria will be that our plot is not surrounded by trees. 

And just before we leave this post, and head back to our daily work, just one more glimpse at another scene I captured on that morning walk all that time ago:

How's that for eye-candy, eh?

Spring ... To Stay or Not to Stay?

I woke this morning around five o’clock, and at six o’clock, I opened the bedroom blind and the window to let both the stunning morning colours pour in to the room and also the sweet birdsong. Both were beautiful. Both gave me that real oomph feeling that is often nowhere in sight in the mornings. And both meant one thing: Spring has sprung!

During the morning, as I was texting my mum, I grabbed a quick photo with my mobile to prove to Mum that, honestly, the day actually was as good as I was saying. 

The weather here is so amazing - to me - that we have a bit of a daily joke going. Mum phones or texts and inevitably comments on their weather. I answer with my usual speil, telling of yet another stunning day, with not so much as a breeze etc etc. Mum reckons I simply press Play on a recording!

Hence my taking of this photo and sending it in a text to Mum!

However, only an hour later, this was the photo I took with my phone.

What a difference an hour or so can make!

I couldn’t resist handing over my camera to Calum, who was heading out with the Builder, and he took some photos around the estate. 

It's just as well there was no wedding on at the hotel today. The scenery would have been stunning (as has often been the case over this past winter), but the guests may have had some difficulty making their way along the country roads.

Seems like if Spring sprung, it sprung a long way off again. But personally, I have no qualms with the snow giving us a few more glimpses of its quiet beauty.

Snow and Sunshine

I promised you I'd give you even more of a glimpse of the area around where we live. Remember last week's rain? Well, even as the waters were barely receding in Inverurie and some of the surrounding villages, this is what we woke up to on Friday morning.

Tell me I'm not the only fully grown adult who gets this excited with snow. 

Oh, and I use 'fully grown' in the most basic sense of adulthood. Obviously I wasn't referring to physical stature, eh? Well, adult I may be, but the sight of crisp snow makes me act like the age my height would normally be.

Around 11. Ish.

Not only does it incite a childlike excitement, but it also gives me energy - the kind of energy that takes me outside. And because I was outside, and because I'm a blogger (just), and because the Builder gave me a new camera for Christmas, I took some photos of the estate and the surrounding area just for y'all.

Can you see the hotel in between the trees in the photo above? One day, I shall tell y'all all about the hotel. This building began life in the 1400s. Yes, you read that correctly! Most of it was destroyed by fire in the 16th century, but a fair bit of what's now this hotel was built in the 1560s.

How amazing is that?!

Americans, you folks are just babies!

*      *      *

The estate on which the Builder now works, and on which we live is nestled on the northern side of Bennachie. This gives us a fair bit of snow when the surrounding area may have none, and it also affords great shelter from any winds that may have come as far as the eastern side of the country. Normally the West keeps all the gales to itself. I know this, because I lived through them. Often.

After my walk around parts of the estate, Katie and I took a wee spin. We went to Inverurie, and the photos of some of the flooding are in my previous post. But en route to Inverurie - a drive of about 5 miles - I asked Katie to stop the car once or twice, so I could capture some of the beauty around us.

Here's Bennachie's Mither Tap with a covering of snow. We haven't walked to the top yet, but all being well, it's certainly close to the top of our Things-to-Do list for this year. Remember in this post, Calum, Katie, and I walked up to one of the Bennachie ridges, and the views of the surrounding countryside were stunning. I can only imagine what it'll be like when we climb the Mither Tap.

Around another corner, and Katie was ordered to stop the car again. It's just as well she's as patient as she is, but how could I not capture some of these scenes!

Is this not perfect winter's scenery?

Can you find the house on the far left of the photo below?  

Can you imagine the sheer beauty that the views from this house give all year round! Were I to live there, I can't imagine any work being done. I can picture, and hear, the scene:

Me: Oh, guys, come and see this!

Kids: Mum, we've seen it. It's the same as it was when you called us to the window  yesterday.

Me: Oh, but it's not. It's different today. The colours. Oh come and have a look.

Kids: Yes, mum .... Yep, I see it. Yes, it's different. Whatever you say, Mum....