November Blog 2018
November already and I am feeling very contemplative about life. It's normal for me. I'm a scorpio, with a birthday looming, and it'll likely mean fuss. Then it's Christmas. Then Hogmanay. I'd rather rake out my thickest pair of socks and a cosy, old jumper, find a space to hunker-down till Spring, and wait for all the partying to conga off into the distance. I can't imagine a better place than here, in this remote bothy, with my new wee 'bestie' for company. An uncomplicated friend who knows the importance of listening. I can still smell woodsmoke and the sparking crack of burning pine logs. The sharp tang of sloe-gin on my tongue.
Those last days of October were glorious in the glen. Rose-pink sunsets, crusty morning frost followed by golden sunlight. When I arrived I remember saying the glen would tell me what to write, but I wrote little. I was too busy listening. Voices from the past marked by piles of fallen stone. Waterfalls racing down the hillside. Waking at 3am to the sound of stags roaring. I left my bed to look outside and it had snowed. I listened to silence until I couldn't feel my toes. Yet later that morning nothing but gold-brushed hills as far as the eye could see. I wondered if I'd dreamt it or if I had gently sleep-walked into a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale.
On the last night, walking back to the cottage in the gloaming, a herd of red deer glided across the river ahead of me, their heads held high, the big stag at the rear making sure his girls were safely on the other side before he crossed. The only sound was the soft burble of peaty-brown water leaping over granite boulders, muffling the clip of their hooves. Maybe that was another dream?
The highlands of Scotland in Autumn is a dreamscape. As the days crept closer to Halloween, the veil between our world and the other world became so thin it was almost transparent. In that space, anything is possible. Maybe I should have stayed in the glen, kept staring into the fire, watched the shadows the flames painted, listened to the burn tell it's stories, and waited for more snow. But, I've a birthday to celebrate.
