Then & Now

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Jonathan & Denise > Ciorstaidh [Kirsty] MacDonald and her older daughters Mary and Annie are making hay in the field below Carrick – which we refer to as Field 1 or Home Park.  The young boy sitting on the grass is Alasdair Lachlainn [Alexander Lachlan – or just Alex] : as a young man he emigrated to Canada and made a good life for himself there.  Here he is sitting back to back with his year-older sister who became a nun, being thereafter known as Sister John Vincent. The last time such labour-intensive work was considered at all worthwhile was during the Great Depression  – when this old photo was taken.

 

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Carrick & Croft – Map

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Jonathan & Denise >

Over the weekend we’ve been working on developing the interactive map of the croft.  It’s still a work-in-progress, but already it offers a lot more than just showing where on the surface of Earth the croft is located! Judge for yourself :

Rip Tide

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J > The energy gained by the waters rushing headlong under the bridge – falling nearly two metres in just 20m or so – is not quickly dissipated, not by the weight of the weight of the seas that they blunder into, nor by the waves driving in from the west, nor even by the wind.  Never, surely, did any attacking army break through the ranks of its sworn enemy with as much malevolence!

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Wood and Steel

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J > I’m replacing the fences (and gates) on the west side. The work starts with the gate into the Steading, then then a short length of fence. (These aren’t shown in these photos.) You’ll see here that I’ve installed one of the new square wooden posts for the gate into Carrick, and some of the wooden posts along the new alignment.  The last post (and two before it) have to be galvanized steel, because bedrock is very close to the surface.  The old fence was installed (not by me!) incorrectly – too far from the field access track.

 

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Indications

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Denise >

Here we have the classic first indications of spring, even in the midst of winter.

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Time’s Up?

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Over the course of nearly twenty years here, in Uist, we’ve been very fortunate to have forged for ourselves, from scratch, a way of living and working that has (mostly) suited us very well.  In doing so we’ve had to learn how to do a lot of things we’d never done before (some we’d always wanted to, but most we knew nothing about).  We’ve learned to be self-sufficient, to stand on our own two feet ; and we’ve also learned to truly appreciate and value the time and talents of our neighbours. We’ve become more confident in our own capabilities, but also more conscious of limitations – whether our own or those inherent to human life – to all life. There are only so many hours in the day, days in the year, years to a life ; and we have but one of those.

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Gooseberry Goodness Again

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J > This is in the ‘Dyeshed’ – which is also used for preparing garden produce for the kitchen or preserving it for the pantry (where we keep our winter stores).  Preserving includes a variety of methods : dehydrating/dessicating and salting ; jams and jellies ; chutneys and pickles ; and – as you can see here – wines.

In the white bucket we have a gallon of gooseberry juice, filtered off from the skin and the seeds, with just one kilo of sugar added dissolved into the juice, a teaspoon of yeast nutrient, and a sachet of Gervin GV9 yeast – perfect for the job, and here you can see it already beginning to froth up. (Carbon dioxide is a by-product of fermenting sugars.)

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Shadow of the Wall

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Here’s the front of the house at An Gàrradh Mòr, with the last light of a winter’s day casting the west wall of the garden onto the house in sillhouette. If you look carefully, you’ll see the big sitting room window (to the right of the bench) framed by the two piers (or pillasters?) on either side of the west gate. When you live and work in a place for many years, you get to observe little details like this.

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A Flurry of Posts?

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J > No, not a new collective noun for hyperactive blogging !  The sudden rush of posts in the past couple of days, some of them back-dated, is not due to a sudden burst of creativity or energy (or, at least, not entirely).  It’s just me finishing off a pile of part-complete posts stretching back to last autumn, when I was – to be frank – somewhat depressed by the loss of what psychiatrists term ‘agency’ – the perception that your affairs are under your own control. I know, we’re so fortunate here in Uist, as far as Covid-19 restrictions and safety are concerned, but …

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