There is only so much you can say about the weather.
From summer time and the living is easy to darkest winter with hail and gale. It gets repetitive, just like the seasons, and by definition boring. Last year was much the same and next year, barring a change in the Gulf Stream, will be more of the same. But I don't mean it's boring being here, living the life, just boring talking about it.
When you live in the great outdoors the seasons and weather dominate. Nice day today, or a bit terrible, to neighbours seldom met and shop attendants in Portree when in for the paper.
Other things happen, of course, like planting one hundred native trees, a mixture of alder, birch, rowan, goat willow and hazel, down by the burn. Not to reduce our carbon footprint or anything else so high minded, but just because we like trees.
And then there is my current crusade, or war, against the local crows. The darn creatures are eating all the garden bird food as soon as I turn my back, so I have taken to shooting them. The little garden birds could be at the table all day a nibbling at what the crows demolish in a matter of minutes. Bastards! But crows are clever. After killing a few and winging a few more they skedaddle the minute they sense my presence.
And then they return, in droves, once I'm away from the house feeding the beasts. The crows, bastards that they are, are winning. Let one slip and get cocky and its buzzard food.
It would be nice to recount a play that I had recently seen or a film viewed and start a debate on merits but life here is not like that, at least for me. I seldom venture out of an evening, except perhaps, to the monthly local history society lecture. And do I mind? Not in the least.
Because this is the life I live and I like it, just as it is.
So, so long until Spring.
As there is only so much you can say about the weather.
PS Be sure to sure to check the for sale page of the website if interested in buying cattle or come a visiting for B&B next season.
Oidhche mahath leibh
From summer time and the living is easy to darkest winter with hail and gale. It gets repetitive, just like the seasons, and by definition boring. Last year was much the same and next year, barring a change in the Gulf Stream, will be more of the same. But I don't mean it's boring being here, living the life, just boring talking about it.
When you live in the great outdoors the seasons and weather dominate. Nice day today, or a bit terrible, to neighbours seldom met and shop attendants in Portree when in for the paper.
Other things happen, of course, like planting one hundred native trees, a mixture of alder, birch, rowan, goat willow and hazel, down by the burn. Not to reduce our carbon footprint or anything else so high minded, but just because we like trees.
And then there is my current crusade, or war, against the local crows. The darn creatures are eating all the garden bird food as soon as I turn my back, so I have taken to shooting them. The little garden birds could be at the table all day a nibbling at what the crows demolish in a matter of minutes. Bastards! But crows are clever. After killing a few and winging a few more they skedaddle the minute they sense my presence.
And then they return, in droves, once I'm away from the house feeding the beasts. The crows, bastards that they are, are winning. Let one slip and get cocky and its buzzard food.
It would be nice to recount a play that I had recently seen or a film viewed and start a debate on merits but life here is not like that, at least for me. I seldom venture out of an evening, except perhaps, to the monthly local history society lecture. And do I mind? Not in the least.
Because this is the life I live and I like it, just as it is.
So, so long until Spring.
As there is only so much you can say about the weather.
PS Be sure to sure to check the for sale page of the website if interested in buying cattle or come a visiting for B&B next season.
Oidhche mahath leibh
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