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Lauds has arrived and I greet the sunny morning with my scratchy voice.

"O God, come to my aid.
O Lord, make haste to help me.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,
world without end.
Amen. Alleluia."

I think I can hear the barn cats joining in. They must think that I am one of them...

I can see the sheep once again because the sun has risen and they are grazing in the one field that can be seen perfectly from the house. I can hear the warm coal fire crackling in the livingroom and I can't help but wonder where my black cat "Brodgar" is lurking? Usually she is inside of the house by now basking on the sofa, her glossy coat reflecting the orange of the flames. She had been found as an emaciated kitten living at the Ring of Brodgar by an American tourist who managed to win the animal's trust enough to capture her and bring her to the Orkney Cats Protection. My husband and I found her last winter awaiting adoption amongst the many cages. We took her and another young black cat which we have named "King Tut." They now rule the farm and Brodgar has quickly assumed the position of Queen Of The Sofa.

"The rivers have raised, O Lord,
the rivers have raised their voices.
The rivers have raised their clamour.
Over the voices of many waters,
over the powerful swell of the sea,
you are the Lord, powerful on high."

Sometimes when I pray I fall into a trance and think about everything BUT the words I am chanting. How many loads of laundry can I do today?? Where on earth did I put the sewing box?? My mind has the amazing capacity to wander away.

I haven't had my sunbox time yet because I have been busy preparing a lovely chicken for roasting. When I first arrived in Orkney I couldn't even boil a tattie (potato) so it is with a serious sense of satisfaction that I prepare the cold bird for its appointment with the oven. One of my neighbors told me that if I rub butter into the skin of the chicken it will stay moist. I tried this trick with the Thanksgiving turkey but cold butter and cold dead bird just don't mix. Today I felt so clever because in a moment of caffine-induced brilliance I melted the butter in the microwave. I had grinned in triumph as the hot greasy stuff slathered all over the chicken with ease. Woot! Woot!

Erlend's mother always has us over for Sunday dinner and a few weeks ago I hit upon an idea: why not share the burden with her so she doesn't have to do all of the work every week? Now we trade off and every-other-weekend I have Ma and Pa In Law over to the farm for their chance to be served and spoiled. I've finally mastered the delicious Scottish stuffing made with butter and oatmeal. I never tasted anything like it in America! I wonder though if I've overdone it with the onions. How I love onions! I chop them up and stuff them into just about every dish I make - except the apple pie or the porridge oats...

Erlend is outside feeding the cattle. We always have a lie-in on Sunday mornings but the cattle are never amused. They give us until about five minutes past their breakfast time and then the byres (barns) errupt into a chorus of difiant boggles. "MOOOOO!!! GIVE US OUR BREAKFAST YOU LAZY HUMANS!"

It's pointless to grind ourselves deeper into the mattress and attempt to ignore them because cattle come equiped with amazing voices: their moos could penetrate a bomb shelter!! "MOOOO!!!" they roar as one. "GET OUT OF BED BEFORE WE COME INSIDE THAT HOUSE AND GET YOU UP OURSELVES!!"

Being good cattle slaves we soon give in and roll out of our warm nest. Erlend is such a sweetie - every morning he goes downstairs and digs out the hot coals from under the peat ash and gets the fire going again.

"Bless the Lord, sun and moon; all stars of the sky, bless the Lord.
Bless the Lord, rain and dew; all you winds, bless the Lord.
Bless the Lord, fire and heat; cold and warmth, bless the Lord."

**Sigh** Another beautiful day begins!