In early September the lower meadows were cut in a rush and a push. Cutting, tedding and baling squeezed into the intermission of a show comprising weeks of rain. Squalls pummelled everything. I th…

In early September the lower meadows were cut in a rush and a push. Cutting, tedding and baling squeezed into the intermission of a show comprising weeks of rain. Squalls pummelled everything. I th…

Green is the colour of our west coast Highland summer.  Myriad greens and near-tropical lushness.   Spring was cold. June, July and the first half of August very wet a…

We watch the summer solstice sunset from the Erradale shore.  It is a peaceful and surprisingly midge-free evening. A gentle breeze lifts scents of seaweed and salt to mingle with the syrup, l…

Warmth comes to us, eventually. And when it does, the greening and flowering of garden, croft and valley follow swiftly. For a time, the ‘hottest’ yellows come from marsh marigolds and gorse bushes…

Warmth comes to us, eventually. And when it does, the greening and flowering of garden, croft and valley follow swiftly. For a time, the ‘hottest’ yellows come from marsh marigolds and gorse bushes…

In December 2008, the International Year of the Potato, I rise in winter darkness. The sun won’t join me for hours. To thaw my bones, I crumple yesterday’s crossword and […]