Starting today, my brother will be recounting his time on his own on the West Coast of Scotland, referring to his photographs and journals from that time.
“That night, as the sky was beginning to darken, I set up my hammock between two gnarled oak trees, strung my tarp above, ate a quick dinner and fell asleep. I was to stay out in those woods, alone, until December.”
A Fall in Time by Alexander M. Crow.
And it’s all change for August! A beautiful day, and a walk filled with pale, dappled sunshine in The Pinewood. Elfi has now started nursery, Auri has two weeks left before starting school, and I’m officially on annual leave rather than maternity leave now.
And… breathe.
A rainy, rainy walk today, though so much greenness! July bowing out true to her form this year, on both accounts.
We are just catching our breath from a busy last fortnight, just in time to rush into another busy month.
Last week, we were all up at Stempster. Euan spent a happy two or three days (mostly) in the Wild Wood, taking down fifty-two and a half trees (the half being some serious surgery to a victim of lightning). Auri spent many a delighted hour on the swing and generally wreaking havoc outside, Elfi was her usual cheerful self, and Scapa got in some much-loved beach walks.
There are several photographs to share, which I suspect will crop up at odd times over the coming few days. But enough of us. How are you all?!
On Sunday, Auri wanted to borrow my phone to take photos on her walk with Euan and Scapa.
They shut the road through the woods
The Way Through the Woods by Rudyard Kipling
Seventy years ago.
There is something very satisfying about raking leaves. I always absentmindedly find myself humming Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “This Shirt”, and repeating lines from “A Song of Sherwood” by Alfred Noyes (even if most of the poem is out of season right now).
Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,
Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,
Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,
And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed.
The pears and plums were the first to fall (only a hardy few hanging on), followed by the apples (half down to date). The larger cherry is turning yellow from the inside out, and falling oh-so-slowly. Only two or three have fallen so far from Osa’s Oak, though the colours are stunning.
I am sure that I picked up the phrase “misty, moisty mornings” from Susan Hill’s “Through the Kitchen Window” many, many moons ago. She was describing those autumn days with mushroom blooming everywhere. It seems fitting for today.
The nights are drawing in, and the dark is lingering longer in the mornings. The trees are a riot of joyous colour, and there is definitely an increasing bite of autumn in the air. Contemplating the turning of the year, this old favourite sprung to mind the other day.
Auri and Euan, sitting on a tree trunk and learning about the importance of dead trees to the woodland ecosystem.
