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It is so fun to make new friends! At the end of June Erlend and I took a 5-day holiday sooth so we could meet up with Dag, his wife Tordis and one of their daughters Marianne. We met up in the old Viking capitol of Dingwall and had the time of our lives! It was as if we had all known each other for years - we clicked the moment we all met! Thanks Dag, Tordis and Marianne for a wonderful three days of visiting!!!! It seems that Island Blogging is doing an excellent job of bringing all sorts of people together!


This sign says it all for the likes of us: Behold, SHEEP!


We all met at the National Hotel in Dingwall. I would suggest this hotel to anyone because it is so down to earth and friendly! We were glad that all of us were able to stay at the same place. Dag informed us that "Dingwall" is a corruption of "Ting vol" - the place where the Vikings held Tings, or their important decision-making meetings. (Of course I spelled it wrong.) That makes sense of an otherwise silly-sounding town name!


We all claimed a table in the dining room where we held our own tings. The first order of business: eating a good supper!!!


Here I am enjoying "Chocolate Lumpy Bumpy" - a weird name for such a divine pudding!!!! I wish I had thought to get the instructions on how to make it...oh wait, maybe it's safer that I didn't!!!!!


Erlend engages in his favorite past time: reading!


We held a breakfast ting (the Norwegians were not impressed with the porridge made with water!) and decided to engage in some exploration. We decided to go look at the big tower thingy up on the hill and then head off to Ullapool.


The Norwegians are a peaceful people...


Scottish, Norwegian and American troops joined forces in an attempt to take the tower. After a brave rush at the sturdy gates they had to finally admit defeat.


(Look: no food! A rare photo of us not stuffing our faces...) On the way to Ullapool we stopped to stretch our legs and admire the sheep droppings. Here Tordis is attempting to teach me Norwegian words by pointing out the various flowers - most of which I've never seen before in my life! So it was a double lesson: botany and Norwegian. (I kept having to ask Erlend what the flowers were called in English...or should I say Orcadian?)


Ullapool! Yeah. Uh... ok, on to the next picture... (It was sunny but incredibly cold!! We nearly froze!!) Wow...my shoes look like ballet slippers. Weird.


On the way back to Dingwall we spotted something at the edge of the forest: stags! Erlend pulled the van over and we all got out to have a look at the beautiful animals.


You should be able to make out the twa stags. There was a doe with them and they were grazing - until we showed up. Then they all stood there staring at us with mounting suspicion. Finally, after posing for the camera a few times, they all trotted back into the forest.


Each evening we would enjoy a walk around Dingwall in an attempt to digest our huge suppers. (The hotel is not skimpy on portions!) Our evening Ting decided the fate of our final day together: we would visit the sheep sales at Dingwall auction mart and then journey to the Black Isle for a visit to the Clootie Well and then dinner at the Munlochy Hotel. There we would say goodbye to Dag, Tordis and Marianne.



The twa farmers in front of the Dingwall Auction Mart


Farm Chic. We are trying our best to look the part...


Bonnie black face sheepies zoom aboot the ring. The Norwegians do not have these kinds of auctions! So our visit to the sheep sales ended up being a cultural adventure for Dag, Tordis and Marianne. They loved it!


"Does anyone have any idea what that man is saying???"


The Clootie Well! This is sooo cool. We don't have anything like this back home. This particular Clootie Well is dedicated to Saint Boniface - I have no idea who it was dedicated to in pre-Christian times.


Dag came armed with a cloot from Norway which he divided up with Tordis and Marianne.


Cloots everywhere!


Tordis prepares to give away her portion of the cloot.


Marianne places her portion of the cloot in the mystical well waters.


We came armed with a (clean) hankie from Orkney. I've dipped it in the well water and touched it to my injured ankle.


Here it is tied to a tree.

After a lovely dinner at the Munlochy Hotel we had to say our goodbyes because Dag et al were heading one way and we were off to Pluscarden Abbey. What a great time we all had together! It's so wonderful to make new friends. Marianne downloaded several pictures of their sheep in Norway and I can't resist sharing the pictures:


Three balls of wool with no legs hehehe! These sheep are so very similar to Shetland Sheep. I wish I could have a flock of them myself here in Orkney!


Such a serious little sheep! This is one of my favorite pictures.


Dag will have to tell us what breeds these are again. I know one breed is called, "Norwegian." The other breed is named after his home area in Norway. But I can't remember which breed is which!


This sheep is wearing more jewelry then most humans!!! (Dag sent us a bell and a red tag for our sheep Mathilda! So now she will be as richly adorned hehehe!)


Ok, is it me or is this sheep smiling?


Here's another smiling sheep! They have a very friendly flock over there in Norway!

Ok, now I am finished with the photos. There are so many more but I just can't sit here for any longer re-sizing and posting! My hands and my back are killing me hahahaha! CHEERIO!

It's my birthday today - I turned 32! I'm going to enjoy a nice cup of tea and some of the lovely chocolates that Erlend gave me. Have a wonderful day yourselves!!! **Grin**

Here are my birthday presents:


Erlend bought me these rose and lavendar bath fizzies and this MUCH needed lovely jewelry box. He also bought me chocolates!

Our friends John and Sue came by the farm last night and gave me this NIFTY little metal sheep! Baaaah!!

I fear I am becoming a sheepaholic...

One of the sad facts of farm life is that old animals that can no longer get into calf or lamb must be sent off for the cull. My dear sweet husband had my pet coo "Mable" slated for the cull and she was to go off on Monday. As we stood in the byre yesterday and I stroked her sleek black coat for the last time I couldn't help but plead her case! Erlend said that she was not in calf and I reminded him about how two of our bulls had gotten very lazy and were not breeding - one even had to be sent off to the cull! Erlend scratched his chin and considered this for a moment but then he told me that Mabel is old. So I pointed out how fit Mabel was: no stiffness in her legs. She wasn't hobbling around like the three other cull coos! Also, she gave excellent milk and she is always very tame even when she calves. I knew there might be a chance of saving Mabel when Erlend started to scratch her ears... After consulting his breeding records and considering Mabel's fitness he decided to grant her a second chance! But he told me, "If she's no in calf in the back end (autumn) then she'll hev tae go off!" So...if anyone can spare a prayer for Mabel would you ask God if she can be in calf??? She's my sweet pet coo!! I'd hate to see her go.

NOTHING beats home-grown broccoli!! Our garden is, thankfully, thriving!

Today Erlend and I are celebrating our first anniversary! I can't believe a whole year has zoomed past! One year spent as a happy farmer's wife. Too cool!!

I'm going to surprise him with all his favorite foods at dinner time: a juicy roast, new tatties and broccoli fresh from the garden and an apple/peach crumble! MmmmmMMMmmmmm! If I can find our wedding cups then I'll serve apple juice in them at dinner - and light some candles!

Being married is just lovely! CHEERIO! I'm off to the kitchen to comence my baking!

Oh how I LOVE summer! So bonnie and green! And so swiftly passing by...

Feeling energetic, I decided to give the tub a good scrubbin' with the windows open to let in the fresh air and the music blaring loud enough to make the cattle stare towards the hoose. I whipped out my ecological biodegradable (and lemon scented!) cleaning stuff and set about gleefully splashing it around the edges of the tub so that it ran down the sides and collected in the bottom. My goal was simple: coat the tub with the cleaning stuff and let it soak. When I was putting the cap back on the bottle I was shocked to see that it was less then half full! Ooops. I think I got a bit carried away...

After the large quantity of lemon cleaning stuff had time to eat away at the grime I donned my pink scrubbing gloves and got to work! After a few moments the tub glistened with bright cleanliness - and I was busy choking on the (hopefully non-toxic) lemon-fresh vapors.

All I can say is that it is farrrr easier to gleefully pour out 3/4 of a bottle of cleaning stuff then it is to rinse it away...

So I thought I'd be clever! (I do that sometimes...) We have one of those showerheads-on-a-hose: an ex-firefighter's dream come true! I hauled it around the side of our separate shower and fired that baby up!! I aimed the showerhead at the sides of the tub and promptly sprayed down the entire bathroom.

It seems the showerhead has a few leaks...

Now myself, the carpet, the walls and the toilet paper are dripping wet and lemony fresh!

Undaunted, I gave the cap on the toilet cleaner an enthusiastic swirl and squirted a modest amount it under the rim. (An easily rinsable amount.) The second I replaced the cap I had to go like a crazy woman! Mama Nature didn't call - she SCREAMED!

Why is it that as soon as you fill the loo with cleaning stuff you suddenly have to go??

The Universe is rife with mysteries...

I've never based anyones' importance on external factors like beauty or wealth or having a "cool" job. I don't base my own importance on these things either. But I must say that it really is very important to have an identity - to feel as if you belong and that you are taking an active and important part in this big world. I'm not talking about fitting in in the popular sense - but rather fitting into a lifestyle that suits you and makes you feel as if you are living life.

Right now, I don't feel any of that.

I know I have my sheep and I have a farm and this and that - which really is grand! But I always pictured sharing these adventures with other people. Otherwise it's just plain old work: lamb the sheep and stick out to the field and that's that. What's the point?? Who am I sharing this with?? Me. Hmmm.

I've been living here in Orkney for over a year now and I feel like I'm just drifting along. I never realized how hard it would be to give up everything to come and live here as Erlend's wife. Everything: my job, my fire department, my University studies, my church, my friends, my family, my own familiar country and language... I thought it would be an exciting adventure. And I also thought that a year down the road I'd have loads of friends and I'd be doing this and that and feeling grand.

But that's not the case. Instead I'm like...feeling lost. I was Michelle: Firefighter/Medic, Geology student! I rode horses and hung out with friends and called my mom every Sunday. I enjoyed daily Catholic Mass and strolled down the street to a busy artsy coffee shop when the urge hit. I had my opera and fiddle lessons and firefighter training and medic schooling. Basically, my life was rocking and rolling! Now I feel like I've gotten stuck on a sand bar.

Every single day I interacted with a variety of people at school or up at the station. Now I'm lucky if I see anyone besides Erlend. I sure thought I'd know more people by now. I spent many months making the rounds visiting and visiting and visiting so that folk would get to know me and they would see that I was eager to live here amongst them. I dunno. I guess folk here are private.

I didn't think I'd be so weird either. Maybe in America we are used to seeing lots of people from different countries? No one gapes at me or laughs at me when I walk down the street dressed in my patchwork jeans or my sun bonnet. It's no big deal back home. Just another person doing their own thing... but here it's like I offend people or something?? That's the last thing I want to do. I am happy to live here and adopt many of the local customs and even speak the language. But at the same time, I can't stop being me and I'll never stop being American. It's who I am!

I don't understand why people outright laugh. I'd never think of doing that to anyone no matter how "weird" I thought they were. I've become paranoid - I hate going into the shops or into the restroom on the ferry. I'm sick of people snickering and staring. It's not only RUDE but really unwelcoming. Some folk might as well just come out and say it, "You're not one of us. You are a freak!" Just get it over with, ya know??

The isolation is very strange. I've never lived anywhere that I couldn't easily get to people. I'm not into pubs. But I have always enjoyed coffee shops and art galleries. Here it's like...there's only one bus like once a day or whatnot and I can't drive yet so I'm stuck. I've never lived in a place where there really weren't any towns! That's an experience. We have Kirkwall and Stromness which host a whole boatload of interesting places, including coffee shops and artsy places, - but both are totally out of reach! I love living on a farm in the country. But sometimes it sure can feel like the Twilight Zone. DooDeeDoooDeee...this is the TWILIGHT ZONE...no matter how much Michelle tries to escape the farm she can never leave....

We do get into town - but it's always a rush. Hurry! Hurry! Just do the shopping as fast as possible because we have to get back to the farm!!!!! I never knew farms were so .... dependent on humans being there 24/7.

And I never realized that farmers worked SO LONG. That has been the most shocking and difficult thing to adjust to. Erlend basically gets up and goes to work, works until 11pm and then comes in and falls in bed. I try so hard not to hold him back from his work or keep him up late talking but WHEN is a good time to talk with him or interact with him?? Even at meal times the poor man is wracking his brain as he tries to solve the latest complicated farm issue. (They never end.)

Erlend has his life all figured out. He has his farm and his island. He speaks his own language and has his family and his friends and all of his neighbors - folks he's known since he can remember. When he wakes up every day it's like Alright!! Time to farm!! He knows what he's doing and he LOVES it. That's what my firefighting and medic-ing was like: I loved it. Every time I slipped into my uniform and walked into the station I knew who I was and where I belonged. I had my calling and I was fulfilling it. It was the same thing when I was singing my Italian arias or going to my fiddle lessons or cantering on the back of a beautiful Mustang. I had a life, ya know? I understood people when they talked. And no one laughed at me in the store or on the street.

I wouldn't give up Erlend for anything. But what I wouldn't give to be able to find myself again. Because right now...I have no idea. I've got to find my path because this really stinks. Orkney doesn't stink. My marriage doesn't stink. The farm stinks - but that's expected! No, it's not anyone or any thing that is stinking. It's my lack of identity. I left everything behind - none of it is in my life any more. That's freakin' hard to deal with.

I remember how I used to wish I had a good man in my life. I had everything going for me - I was very happy. I still am. But I thought, you know, gee it would be nice to share all of this with the man I love. I never realized that in order for me to have this wonderful man to love I'd have to have nothing else. I never expected such a freaky trade-off. Now I have the man I love. But I'm probably wearing him down by constantly turning to him for attention and human interaction and someone to talk to so that I can hear another person's voice. The cows are nice and all but...they sure don't do well at conversations hehe

I guess it's just like this with anyone who leaves country and home and job and family and church...to go live thousands of miles away in some strange and different culture. Especially a tight and old culture like Orkney where most of the incomers are still British. It's exciting - but very shocking. I live on an island in Scotland and that is terribly exciting and fun. But it is hard finding my place here. Who am I now? I think I'm like a chick in an egg - I'm at the point where I'm getting impatient to HATCH!