Replenishing

New Perspectives on Familiar Scenes

Finding Stillness

Untangling

Summer Sheiling

Around Beltane, back in the day, the  older women and children of the village would move to the moorland pastures with the livestock, to take advantage of the  better grazing - and to give the in-by land a rest.  While there, they would make butter and cheese, spin and knit, sing and tell stories. They lived in very simple dwellings or shelters known as sheilings, built from stone and turf.  Those left behind in the village were busy with the growing, fishing, peat cutting, hay making, harvesting and all those other activities of crofting. This system of transhumance (to travel across the earth) was once common practice amongst pastoral societies all over the world, and it happened here even as late as the 1950s. Some people still maintain a moorland sheiling today- perhaps for use at peat cutting time, as a fishing hut, or just simply as a retreat.
I mentioned Alice Starmore's writing in Earthlines magazine last week.  In this article, she writes most movingly about her own memories and experiences of Summers spent at the sheilings; her words and images have been haunting me since I read them..  At the same time, I have been dipping into Dr John Francis's book - The Ragged Edge of Silence.  I mentioned him last week too; during his 22 years of walking across America, he became silent for much of that time - as he did this, he found that he was then truly able to listen - and to learn.

These writings have come to me at just the right time.  I had been wondering about where I was going with the blog.  I have come to a point where I feel I am going over old ground - struggling to find something to say. Furthermore, there are so many other things happening that I need to give my energies completely to. I have been posting less over the last few weeks, and I have not been responding to comments or visiting other blogs as much as I would like to.  I don't want to stop blogging  (I don't think I could do that anyway) I do love coming here most days and seeing what emerges.  But -  I  am feeling a need to step back a bit - to spend some time in my own sheiling, if you like.  Working away at life - immersing myself in the countless projects I seem to acquire, but also to take some time, thinking, reflecting, meditating, and re-membering. As well as this, I would like to explore the idea of silence. The physical world is a noisy enough place at the best of times, but this online virtual world seems relentless in it's clamouring, twittering attention-seeking demands. I find myself losing precious time - time I will never get back - being sucked in - often to inspiring, enriching places, but sometimes to those that disturb my soul and my peace of mind.

So, I am taking myself off to the sheiling for the Summer. I will still be posting though -pictures only, or perhaps a haiku or something like that - comments disabled. I plan to use this space as a silent journal of my Summer retreat. I hope you will all put up with my latest notion. It will be strange not to read all the wonderful comments that readers so kindly leave. I know I will miss the conversation, and the validation too. I am not even sure what I am trying to achieve here - only that all my recent thoughts and wonderings have coalesced into this - and it feels as if it is the right thing to do - for now. I hope to begin my posts from the Summer sheiling in a couple of days - much love xxx

Seven Days

The days are spinning by so fast right now, that I can hardly keep up with them.  So glad for the random shots captured on the mobile phone this week that remind me of those special moments that might have been lost in the rush.

<> An accidental view of the standing stones, taken during a lovely walk with a visiting blog friend.

<> A relaxing lunch date with my husband, while James was at a friend's house.

<> The return of those long light evenings

<> Crocheting a last minute hostess gift

<> A wander around Stornoway harbour on a still morning

<> Watching my own wedding dress being modelled by one of the young girls from the community at a
      local fundraising event

<>  Adopting an orphan lamb from an elderly neighbour

And so - as the year trundles into May - I wish you a merry seven days ahead.

Yarn ends

Busy time here with the new lambs and other things going on - so once again the knitting and reading have slipped off the agenda a bit.  I had hoped to knit up a few wee pouches for Lori's trip to Africa, but it doesn't look as if I can get this together in time - sorry.  A few weeks ago, I posted about a blanket project for Alzheimers Scotland.  Some beautiful kind people have knitted up squares and sent them either to me or to the AS office.  Thank you Dawn, Gill, Sarah and Susan, and to anyone else who has taken part in this project - I really do appreciate you taking time out to do this.
Now it is time to send the squares off to be incorporated into the giant blanket, representing all those in Scotland who are suffering from dementia, and so we have been sewing them together in strips of 10.  I happened into my Local Yarn Shop last week when a group were sewing squares, so happily joined in for an hour, stitching and chatting (ok - drinking coffee and nibbling biscuits too)  At home, I have been sewing up my own squares and watching the patchwork of colour emerge is such a satisfying part of the work,

When visiting the big town recently, I happened to come across a brand new periodical - Earthlines, published right here on this very island - about 40 miles down the road from me!  Sharon Blackie and her husband David Knowles are both Crofters on Lewis, and also run an independent publishing company from their home. Earthlines is full of stunning photography and artwork, as well as the most beautiful, evocative writing about our relationship to nature, place, and the connections and difficulties we find.  Appropriately for Yarn Along, the first page I turned to was a truly moving piece by designer Alice Starmore, who is from Lewis. In this article, peppered with some of her amazing images of the natural world, she laments the retreat of people from the land, and the impact that has had on the landscape.  And there is more in that vein - not just about Scotland, but from all over the planet. I loved the "bardic declamation" by Alastair Mackintosh, one of my favourite writers, and the essay on Anasazi Country. This is another publication full of mindful articles, which deserves to be savoured and meditated on.  I am so happy that such an inspiring magazine is being produced on my doorstep - do visit Earthline's web page for more details.

And do visit Ginny at Small Things for this week's Yarn Along and be inspired by reading and knitting.

Lambing

Our final lamb arrived on Sunday, a beautiful little ewe lamb.  Almost a fortnight after the others, we had been watching Mairi anxiously for signs of impending birth, as she sailed over the field like a galleon in full sail, eating almost constantly.  The worries from the lambing course about fat ewes and lambs which were too big were in my mind whenever I looked at her. But she knew what she was doing far better than I.  On Sunday, when we came back from church, I noticed her down in the corner, and pretty soon we could see another white blur beside her.  Through the binoculars I could see a strong lamb, up on its feet almost right away.  We left them for most of the day, and at feeding time, James and I took down a bucket for Mairi.  While she was eating, we had a quick cuddle of the lamb, and discovered it was a she.  James was delighted and called her Sally. She is beautiful, with two black spots on here head, and little marks around her eyes like long eyelashes.
So, lambing is over for us this year. After a bad start with Maddie Mor (who is doing well now, thank you, the rest of the lambs arrived safely without any interference, and we are enjoying watching them bounce around the field - such a joyful happy sight.

Earth Day - everyday

I would like to share this video with you.  It is a TED talk by Dr John Francis, whose book Planetwalker, has had a profound effect on me since I first read it several years ago.  After witnessing an oil spill, and helping in the clean-up operations, he gave up using any form of motorised transport, and just walked.  He also gave up talking for 17 years - during which time he graduated from three universities, eventually gaining a PhD.  17 years of silence - no talking, no arguing, just listening.
In this video, he shares some of that experience, and some of what he learned during that time. It is quite long - 20 minutes, so you may need to come back to it.  I hope you do - he is a wonderful man. In the spirit of silence - no comments required. xxx

This moment...

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour and remember. 

I am happy to be joining in again with Soulemama this week. Hoping you manage to get away from it all this weekend. xxx