Denise: A bullying, bruising wind all yesterday and today. Gale force to sever gale. Not wet, thank goodness, but a struggle to do anything outdoors – even opening the car door (or stopping it being wrenched open!). Unusually, it’s not a cyclonic storm, but a constant stream from the south east. Perhaps it’s worse in Argyll and Cumbria? I’m sure they must get this sort of thing in the Algarve, too: I really can’t believe it’s sunny and warm all the time.
Jonathan: This morning’s walk with Tilly was from the road end at South Smerclete along the track at the head of the beach and round the point at Ceann a’ Garraidh. A cold grey dawn, blustry wind carrying spots of rain; the breath rasps from the cattle browsing the marram grass and morsels of seaweed; great heaps of brown-gold kelp cast onto the beach, and strewn with wind-blown flotsom. Strangely beautiful!
Denise: This morning’s walk with Tilly was from the road end at South Smerclete along the track at the head of the beach and round the point at Ceann a’ Garraidh. Grey scudding clouds, a cold wind, occasional spots of rain, heaps of kelp cast onto the beach, and strewn with wind-blown flotsom. And strangely beautiful!
Jonathan: It’s now late autumn and the wind is a just a big bully, standing in our way and pushing us hither and thither whichever we we turn. And for good measure it will bring with it a blustry shower to soak us through. I’ve not got much done outside since I got home Sunday night. There’s been enough to do indoors for now: sorting through accumulated post, making arrangements for taking sheep to abattoir, collecting some lambs I’ve bought …
Jonathan: Still August -just! – but as everyone is saying it already feels like late September. There’s something about the light, the temperature, dew on the grass, the smell of the soil … and already dry soils and hot winds have resulted in some leaves turning golden already.
But how I love this time of year! Winter and Summer are straightforward in what they promise (though rarely live up to!). Spring and Autumn are seasons of contrast and contrariness: Spring of glad relief and untamed hope; and now in Autumn a time of poignant reflection … and a solemn dread of what must yet comem (not an exaggeration for Hebridean winters!)
How soon would I tire of life in a place that knew no seasons!