Wednesday, 5 August 2009

Too windy to hang out the washing

but good enough to peer out through the window towards the hills outside for birds skimming the thermals.

Tuesday, 4 August 2009

A thick woollen blanket has surrounded our little village, nestled up against the hills and wedged in beside the sea.

Its so thick, one could be anywhere. Perhaps that's something to distract one? When stuck in a thick mist what entertainment could you have by convincing yourself that you are in fact somewhere else? Where would that be? It could be anywhere and your eyes cant deceive you because all you can see is this thick white blanket - in penetrable.

Usually mist clears up at some point but not today, it seems set to stay and its getting on in the afternoon.

Refuse to think of SK - The Mist! Argh......

Actually its really misty out there, cant see anything but can hear someone calling out in a muffled sort of way.

Guess it means there is no wind, at all. Windy Isles, Misty Isles.

Monday, 3 August 2009

Windy Isles Stormy Isles

“You throw the sand against the wind

And the wind blows it back again"

William Blake

Found at the beach

Mother bird - Oystercatcher

Baby bird, just hatched on the shore


A giant crab

Sunday, 2 August 2009

To feel the breath of a mist

“To stand at the edge of the sea, to sense the ebb and flow of the tides, to feel the breath of a mist moving over a great salt marsh, to watch the flight of shore birds that have swept up and down the surf lines of the continents for untold thousands of year, to see the running of the old eels and the young shad to the sea, is to have knowledge of things that are as nearly eternal as any earthly life can be."
Rachel Carson


“Walk on a rainbow trail; walk on a trail of song, and all about you will be beauty. There is a way out of every dark mist, over a rainbow trail."
Robert Motherwell

Misty, Misty Morning

Its so misty outside that I cant even see the hills. It's been like that the whole day.

Some horrendous weather over the past days with a mini tornado hitting one of the top islands in the chain and a freak wind blowing away 7 marquee tents at a show on another island. Hail balls, lightening, thunder and torrential rain spent the night. A wild gale blew up yesterday and attacked the tented camps of festival goers who were attending the music festival on our island. Sideways rain, gusty high winds, grey skies. So much for mid - summer.

Saturday, 1 August 2009

Carrot cake

Baking in the oven. Freshly iced.

Friday, 24 July 2009

Freshly Homebake Carrot Cake - Perfect for a sunny, windy Saturday

A delicious mixture of pecans, carrots, wholemeal flour, eggs, cinnamon, ginger, sunflower oil, brown sugar topped with creamy butter, icing sugar and vanilla

- smells heavenly...............

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Look at your feet.

Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky. When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth.- Diane Ackerman

Magnificent Sky

We had a sunset of a very fine sort.

We had a sunset of a very fine sort. The vast plain of the sea was marked off in bands of sharply-contrasted colors: great stretches of dark blue, others of purple, others of polished bronze; the billowy mountains showed all sorts of dainty browns and greens, blues and purples and blacks, and the rounded velvety backs of certain of them made one want to stroke them, as one would the sleek back of a cat. - Mark Twain

Love is to the heart what the summer is

Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul. ~Author Unknown

Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow. Helen Keller

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. ~John Lubbock

Summer afternoon

Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James

Summer is the time

Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world. ~Ada Louise Huxtable

Shades of Summer Green

Its amazing how many shades of Summer Green there are. Spring green is always that vibrant, virgin green but Summer itself has an intriguing variety of growth rich green and the textures....

Setting sun in The Summerlands

Suddenly it's midday.........

and the sun has finally come out to play.

Its burnt a hole in the dull, grey cloud and eventually woken up the kids - who slept late, enjoying their long summer holidays.

Most days so far had been cold, grey and lashing with icy rain, so bookworms they had become. That after an unpleasant week of learning to sail in the bay - in the sodden, drenching rain.

We quickly hustled up some sandwich creations - cheese, chilli, black olives and rushed outside to our tiny, rented, wooden porch - to bask in the glorious rays of light.

After living in the Lands of the North its easy to understand why pagans worshipped the sun (god).

Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....

Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscapeLay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Washing drying in the baking sun - far, far away in the Summerlands
Far, far away in the Summerlands, someone's morning washing dries crisply on a rustic line. Gently drifting in the light breeze, it keeps the seaside hut company under the baking sun.

Though here, on the other side of the world, in the Lands of the North, although it should be summer at this time of year, the sky is sullen grey, with the warmth of the sun hidden.

Strangely bitterly cold for a summer day. Earlier the sun was trying to peek through but the cloud veil was too strong and it soon gave up trying. No early morning patch of sunshine today.

I waited and waited for a patch of golden sun but eventually gave in and so I sit alone, on the tiny porch, in a drizzle sodden chair, sneaking a quick smoke before the rest of the family wakes. Solitude with the early morning birds.

Where is my summer sunbeam? Its always a good reason to take a break and enjoy a smoke in the sun.

But when the suns not there and the smoke has been delayed for ages, waiting patiently for the friendly warmth then in the end the smoke wins and is like an old friend - the only comforter.
Already, too soon and almost imperceptibly - its getting darker earlier and I know that winter approaches.
The lands of the North, though, are blessed with those magical long, long sunlit nights where darkness visits only for an hour or two before whispering away to visit somewhere else.

Somewhere far, far away the sun bakes the earth and the mielies grow taller reaching for the light.

But not here, not now.

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent

The dawn chorus of singing birds is alive with the joy of life. Hidden from view they launch their souls upon the breeze in lively song. Softly floating it drifts and stirs me from my daze-dreams.