91热爆

Snow.
All the Yuletide/Xmas ads are on tv now..and right fine and pretty they look, don`t they?
Sparkling, coloured lights...jolly fat Santas with beaming children and snow!
Elves and presents and all sorts of glowing, cosy, twee and fairytale images.

So...how real is that then eh?

Not putting a downer on the season..I LOVE this time of year! But if I could choose one thing from all the media-driven imagery that is designed to tug on our heart strings and make us spend more out of perceived guilt or the desire to please...
it would be snow.
I remember growing up with the white stuff every single year. I can`t remember a year we didn`t have snow. And I`m talking HEAPS of the stuff....feet deep of it, being blocked in (living outside Brora and off the beaten track we spent a lot of winter time off school)..my mam sending us out to play in it, well wrapped up but out for hours we`d be..can you imagine the outcry from social services nowadays?
Headlines..."Child abuse as parents force children to spend time in subzero temperatures and order them to have fun!"

For, we did....we built snowmen and snow creatures and had snowball fights and built our own versions of igloos, and felt our feet freeze and go numb as our boots filled with snow for we walked into the deep stuff...we walked in wild places where only the red deer trod and left their hoof prints in pristine white landscapes and where, as a child, I remember one especially magical moment when, in the hush of a space among firs that only comes with a thick blanket of snow, I sat under one tree daydreaming...yes...sat in snow. bundled up in scarves (plural) and gloves, three pairs of socks and a duffel coat..remember them?....
and I watched an owl swoop down and capture a pigeon and when it vanished with only the smallest whisper of a wingbeat, I walked to the space where it had been and around the tiny group of pigeon feathers, was the perfect and beautiful imprint in the snow of the owls wings...for no claw had touched the ground...
a predatory dance of great beauty it was. And even my childs heart knew it.
And I have seen that sight only twice since then. They`re gifts, I know it, wouldn`t you see them that way?

When I was young, my dad woke myself and my sister up in the middle of one night and told us to go look out the window of our crofthouse.
It had snowed deeply. And there, under full and bright moonlight, only feet away from our windows, was a group of red deer, breath misting the night air, ears pricked, walking the small field between house and burn.
Deer under moonlight are silver-gilded creatures, eerie and otherworldy. Is it any wonder our ancestors gave them special powers?

These, then, are the kind of winters I would have back. Not the money to buy ever increasingly expensive presents (though no doubt the recipients would love that!) nor even the glitz of the lights strung across streets and in shops from October...

But the magic of snow under moonlight and the hushed quiet of it when it`s freshly fallen, and just the special sight of a world made new and fresh under a blanket of glittering white.

So I want snow. Ok?

Most folks take sight for granted. (apart from blind folks of course...)
And most folks go through their days not really seeing anything.
Oh, you`ll smile at others and talk to them, you`ll watch where you`re going as you`re driving to the shops..presumably...actually come to think of it, there`s a fair few drivers here I have my doubts about...(you know who you are, when you nearly run my walking son`s feet over! *scowl*)..but for the most part they just get through the day on some kinda sight autopilot that allows them to function without too much bumping into things.

Some folks like to look at things though. Really SEE them. Savour them like chocolate dissolving upon a hungry tongue. Because you might not see that particular sight again. And sometimes what you`re looking at is just worth keeping, in your mind and heart, and so you really notice it.

And it isn`t even the grand things of life that only make a mark. Peedie, mundane things can seem so bonny, too.....

I saw my lovely collie Lassie sit out in the front garden and watch the geese and moorhens walk around her with ears pricked and eyes bright, then watched as she decided to play with a flowerpot, nosing it around, `whuffing` at it, then try to bury it in the front lawn (at which point I went out and rescued said flowerpot).
And that was something worth remembering. The shine on her coat, the bum up in the air as her front paws clutched the pot, the inquisitiveness as she watched the birds....don`t dogs have just a childlike lust for life we often lack?

And after a week of gales, hail, sleet and rain I watched the sun rise this morning behind clouds that looked heavy with snow that refuses, stubbornly, to fall. Thick and black they are, but the sunlight gilds them and makes jewelled cushions of them and highlights the small patches of blue around it all and makes the sky look like a bonny, bright Sidhe landscape.
I think in Orkney we can get so used to such big skies, and the beauty of them, maybe there`s a danger of taking them for granted. But I`ll not do that. There are no buildings in the way of my skies, only the sea and the fields kiss the horizon and it all fits together seamlessly like the most stunning quilt of colours you ever saw. I could have gotten up, looked outside and went, "Hell, another dreich day" but instead I stood and gawped like a bairn at the gold around the slate grey and wished I could have worn a gown that colour.....

And then I came back indoors, out of the cold where my breath made pictures in the air, into the warm steamy heat of the livingroom where the battered old Doric pumps out heat like a strong beating heart, with the kettle simmering on top, and the Jul decorations making the room smaller but cosier, with peedie coloured lights shining among greenery and the tinsel and glitter of glass baubles and it took me right back to being a bairn again, remembering how I had my hand knitted, huge stocking to hang at the bottom of my bed...remember the days when beds had knobs on the footboards? Sometimes, as grown ups, we might get a wee bit bored by putting those decorations up year after year, seeing the chore of it, but then you look at them, done and twinkling, and you see the river of memories behind them, right from the magic of that wee bairn that was you, up to your own bairns, trying to make it just as magical for them, wanting to keep the mystery alive for them, wanting them to believe and not grow out of it....
My bairns are long grown now but once those decorations are up, the magic comes back and I look from the glitter inside the house to the skyscape outside and wait for the even bonnier glitter of snow to arrive...living in hope, still, you see...

I never take my sight for granted. I never take the `pictures` of life that parade past us every day for granted. The soft smile of a loved one, or the sad tears in their eyes. The curve of the horizon and the blurring of it into the sky, no boundaries there some days...the steam rising from my hot cup of coffee that promises warmth when I wrap my hands around it and put my feet up and sit by the stove, watching the kettle simmer and hiss and seeing the lights in the green swag above it sparkle...my hound at my feet, ears up wondering if I have anything to feed her, eyes bright with curiosity, tail thumping the rug in happiness.

And on harsh days when the world seems to be intent on beating us down into the mud, the sight of my livingroom, not grand or posh, not huge or modern, but filled with clutter and books, furs and soft light, is good to my sore eyes.
I`ll never take that for granted. :-)

But maybe the next best thing. :-)
This morning, long before the sun came up, there I was, outside, standing on the wee path in front of the house, hardly looking at the view in the dark, but still, looking.
We had a thick frost last night. And this morning it glittered in starlight and was just the most magical looking scene I have seen (:-P) for a while now.
And then the sun began to glow just under the horizon. It painted the whole East of the island in gold, ruddy and warm looking even if my teeth chattered and I shivered with the cold...*note to self..wear a coat next time...*
So that one half of the morning sky was gold and rose and softly lit...and the other half was still inky black with a scant few bright and hard glittering stars.
And under that the island lay, shining under a blanket of frost.
And as the light grew fat and rolleld over the fields, I watched the pond at the side of my track sharpen in the dawn and there was ice on some of it, around the edges, and I could see the ice, still and not moving, and the water from the underground stream that feeds it at one end, and the backwash from the sea at the bottom of it, run into the mirrored surface of it and hit the ice and make ripples, soft and shimmering.
On that pond lives a swan. Just the one this year, which is maybe worrying a little...
and he`s young, still, because he is grey feathered yet.
But like all swans he glides across the water like a dancer, smooth and graceful and gentle seeming.

And now the sun is fully risen, but awful low on the horizon, because it`s winter, and she rides close to the ground but keeps her warmth to herself. And only a few heavy winter clouds are coming in from the West to meet her.
And the land is still gold, and bright under the light, and the frost still glitters like a million diamonds, and the swan still graces the pond which is slowly, steadily thawing under the winter sun.

It`s a bonny, beautiful morning this day.

Usually, when women get to my age, they go one of two ways....say "Bu*ger it" and let nature take it`s course, or try like a demented person to keep fit as possible and stop the dreaded middle aged spread which isn`t so much a spread...which conjures up images (for me at any rate) of things like peanut butter or marmite...as an engulfment that leaves many of us looking like the sister of the Michelin man.
I used to say to folks, hey, I AM in shape..round is a perfectly good shape...then poke me tongue oot at them...
But the older I got the more I wanted to keep fit, instead of worrying what I looked like.
So here I am, forty six and fishing around for the perfect set of exercises that would allow me to keep svelte and energetic....
(aye, I`m no` holding me breath either....)
So, those perfect set of exercises would be something that actually didn`t involve much effort but miraculously melted any stray pounds away whilst at the same time taughtening those muscles which, over the years and through lack of use (anyone ever notice that most women have firm jaws though, eh? :P) have become less than perky....
Instead I`ve tried all sorts of things, because that perfect set exists only in my dreams.
So taking advantage of everyday life, I whizz round the housework like a blue..erm...bottomed fly.....
and ok, it keeps you fit in the way a decent outdoor job would I suppose, but not enough, because when women get to my age the weight stubbornly clings on for dear life as if we`re the last stand before the end of the world....
So then I thought, taking advantage of the stairs I have in me house would work..and so I traipse up and down them pretty much every day til I`m sick of the sight of them, and to be honest I DID find it improved my health a great deal in that I`m no longer puffing and blowing like an auld wifie...got a healthy set of lungs now! *pride*
and I coupled that with leg exercises...you know the kind ladies? Where you lie side on and lift the leg umpteen times, holding for five seconds. Supposed to tighten the inner thighs and yes, it does.
And I have hand weights, different sizes so I have respectably fit and toned arms but I also work cowhides and sheepskins so that doesn`t hurt either.
But you know, it`s all boring as..well...dull as ditchwater as they say....

So in a flash of inspiration...or lunacy, haven`t decided which yet...I bought a Bellydance dvd.
Watched it and thought, "Oh that looks easy enough and fun and a sight more elegant than what I`m doing already".....
And got stuck in.

Oh man, though, I ACHE...:-(
I`ve found out it works a treat on just about every single muscle you own, that co-ordination isn`t as simple as it looks when the professionals do it, and that I am a magpie at heart and covet one of those glittery, silky, shimmering costumes...:-D

I`m sticking with it though. It IS fun after all...but until I`m sure I won`t die of shame, until I`m proficient at it, NOBODY gets to see me practice.....
but tell you this girls....my waist feels tighter, I feel fitter and the ache is that good ache you get when you`ve worked hard but know it`s done you good.
And it makes even the clutziest of us graceful as swans.

There was a point in my life when I DID make a conscious decision to become a hermit. :-)
Even as a wee girl I liked my solitude, preferred being alone to being in crowds, and besides, being bookish was considered odd.
I never cultivated the social graces the popular girls did....I can get by in most social situations, providing I just `sit at the back` and keep quiet.
But there are disadvantages if folks want me to take a more active role.
One of these is that I tend to say what I think. That doesn`t always go down so well, if you`re being honest and others aren`t.;-)
You ever notice how the bulk of folks wear masks in order to display to the world at large the image they WANT to be seen by others?
I used to wonder why that was...was it because they thought their true selves wouldn`t be judged as `good enough`? Or because they had things to hide and didn`t want others getting close enough to see that?
Or was it fear of a kind, so that if they presented themselves as `someone else` it would be easier for them to vanish should the outside world get too close?
Now though, I just don`t care. :P
One of the things I noticed very early on in life is that people seem to constantly play games with one another, not the fun kind either!
Saying one thing, meaning another, that`s one game.
Insincere flattery, for whatever reason, that`s another.
Simple cruelty born out of boredom, that`s a particularly nasty one.
There are lots.
But I watched them being played out and decided, also early on, that I didn`t want to play.
So I learned plain speech, blunt talk, but that`s when I also found out, most folks don`t appreciate it, not really....for those of you blunt talkers out there, you ever notice that folks SAY, `give it to me straight, I can take it` but when you do, they find they didn`t mean it after all, and they hate you for it?
Crazy, huh?
The world`s a crazy place, right enough.

So I thought, be a hermit. :-) Stay mostly to your own self, that way you`re not going around unintentionally insulting folks, they don`t get under your skin with their silly games, and you get simple pleace and quiet.
A simple life, see, should never be underestimated....others can see it as boring, sure enough, but if it satisfies you, then so what?
Life is complex enough without making it so.
So there I was, just coasting along, being a hermit...rarely touching the outside world, because what I saw of it never really appealed...keeping myself to myself and not being hurt by it through the scorn at my lack of social graces...
enjoying a simple life, not bothering anyone, just getting on with your own stuff.
All good. :-)
Then a peedie whiles down the road and you find you stepped into the waters of the outside world more than you thought you had...and that you hadn`t really changed over the years!
So you STILL have no social graces..and folks still notice that and delight in telling you..
so you STILL notice the masks folks wear, the games they play, and still don`t want to play....
And you start to think, maybe I got in over my depth and maybe I should swim back to the shore of hermithood again.

So in true Hermit fashion, I thought I`d set out the pros and cons of hermithood and see what`s what....:-)

Pros....Solitude. I Iike solitude..it`s not the same as loneliness, that`s an enforced thing, but a chosen thing that gives you peace and respite from an often frantic, manic world.
Invisibility....folks don`t notice hermits overmuch. Which is a good thing if you`re uncomfortable being put under a microscope. So you fade into the background.
Simplicity...I`m a great believer in keeping life simple. The Fates throw enough shi...erm....hassle...at us throughout our lives, why court more?
A simple life is a good life, far as I`m concerned.
I`m sure there`s more pros but often they are too subtle to put into words adequately, or they`re too personal to share.

Cons..Loneliness..if you don`t court that solitude then you can feel awful lonely...oh but wait a minute there`s that `lonely in a crowd` thing....so maybe this isn`t really applicable just to hermithood...
ok..now I`m confusing myself!
Invisibility...yup, I know it was in the pros section, but sometimes life intrudes on you and you need to sort it, but when folks don`t realise you`re there, you have to yell helluva hard to get noticed.
Um...right..can`t think of anymore cons.

The Pros have it. :-)

So I might just go back to my Hermithood big time.
Dark winter evenings spent by the side of the stove, courting warmth and drowsiness with a good book read by lamplight, or at the spinning wheel, listening to the quiet thrum of it turn, being hypnotised by the rhythm of it.
Very early mornings before the world around us wakes, still dark, but calm and hushed and vast out there, with only the sound of the sea meeting the shore to intrude upon my ears, or the wind picking up and rustling the now bare branches and twigs of the rose hedge. And looking up at the sky, painted with starlight and so huge it can make you feel either part of something awesome or so insignificant you want to crawl under a rock, depending upon your mood...
hey, you want solitude? Go outside under a dark clear sky and look up....
And I might `hibernate` this winter, spend days baking or gutting cupboards that got too cluttered, like life, over time.
Or stitch myself another medieval gown, just because I want to, no particular reason, old faded linen, softly coloured embroidery, jewelled bright trimmings and fur cuffs.
I might even get back to the lovely old art of proper letter writing, pen and paper, there is nothing like the feel of good quality paper and a sharp nibbed fountain pen to let the words flow like honey into cream upon that blank white sheet.
Though, given the state of the post office, I might have to resort to carrier pigeon if I want to send it anywhere....

I was once accused of burying my head in the sand, being a hermit. Of `running away` from the world.
But that wasn`t, and isn`t, true. The world finds you no matter where you go. You`re always part of it. You can`t escape it.
But you CAN choose how much of it you let rule your day to day life.
I`ve never run away from the problems life has brought me.

But I do choose to say `Enough` sometimes. And being a hermit is part of that.
So if you want to chat? I`ll be by the stove, the kettle hissing softly ready for tea or coffee, take your pick. There`ll be a soft glow from the lamps, and maybe something warm and fragrant in the oven.
Beside the couch, covered in sheepskins and warm and cosy and comfy, there`ll be a small pile of books, well read, well loved, old friends.
And on the floor a basket of sewing, ready to dip into whenever I feel the want.
But you`ll have to knock hard. Because the door will be shut to keep the outside out. And the curtains will be drawn to keep the heat in and the room cosy.

Yup....I think the Pros definately win, don`t you? :-)

The night before last I found a wild goose on the track beside the pond. It had an injured wing, so that is why she was easy to catch. She didn`t object at all to my picking her up, stroking her and bringing her home. Other than the wing, she seemed in fine enough fettle, but the injury, although there was no blood and it was still attached, made it awful difficult for her to walk.
So she was put into one of the hen hutches, given bedding, barley and water, and left for the night.
I`m no vet you see. I have not the touch with healing beasts that other folks seem to have (it appears to go hand in hand with lack of social graces) so she`d to take her chances.
She didn`t make it, but at least she died in peace, because I have seen injured birds before, harried by rats or the islands feral cats (or even the tamed ones!) and watched them without being able to get to them to help, as they panic, and get run over on the roads, or get chased onto the sea to drown, or just get torn to bits by rat, cat or sometimes, dog.
So at least this one died in peace.
I used to try and rescue every injured bird I came across. Normally they seem to be storm damaged birds, with torn wings, or having been clipped by cars. Had only very few successes though...the best one being an oystercatcher we`d to take the leg off, as it had been caught in sheeps wool on a barbed wire fence and the leg was almost torn off of its own self.
I still see it flying around the place, the peedie one-legged bird, with other oystercatchers, so am happy it made it.
Most of them die though.
Like this goose.
She was a bonny bird, soft and grey feathered, gentle eyed and just a pretty wee thing.
Nowadays, when I come across such injured birds, I tend to put them out of their misery if I can catch them.
I don`t know what made the goose different...maybe because she looked well apart from the wing...
but she didn`t make it.
It`s nature, that`s all.

This morning`s sunrise was a bonny one so here are some pics of it. The haar came up from the sea at the bottom of the track like something from an old Hammer Horror movie, all still and quiet and sneaking. And for a peedie while the world was blanked out as you couldn`t see a foot in front of your face, then it receded, as quickly and quietly as it had come...a soft-footed visitor to say Good Morning to those of us up and outside early enough to meet him.

And there are a couple pics of the chucks and this mornings barley-chucking at some of the ducks (I have a few dozen in all, most of them are still on the pond this time of the morning though)

It`s the Solstice, and Jul, so I want to wish everyone Season`s Greetings no matter what your beliefs are.
And Bliadhna Mhath Ur (Happy New Year) too...made any resolutions yet?
I have but am not telling, got a feeling they are kinda like wishes...if you let folks know about them it jinxes them. ;-)
Wishing everyone snow, good meals and better company, and a stress free holiday.
ESPECIALLY wishing the snow..did I mention the snow by the way?
Wouldn`t it just be fantastic to wake up tomorrow morning to a blanket of white outside your window, glittering in the early morning pale winter sunlight?
Aw go on now, nobody could complain at that! Too many Bah Humbug types around this year I think, tsk.....
Best Wishes to everyone. :-)
Eat, drink, be merry.