成人快手

Now that I've moved to another part of the island; I am delighted to have a small beach close to my house; being something I always wanted, which I haden't had before. I'm exceedingly fond of the sea and the seashore in spite of the fact, that I never in any way earned a living from it.
Yesterday being a good day, after some broken weather, I decided to take a stroll, as I often like to do, round part of the nearby coast. As I progressed, how pleasing to the eye and the desiring spirit, the beaches and the little coves and inlets, with a grand view of Mull ( Mull Of The Cold High Bens ) plus Iona ( Iona Of Collum Cille ) and The Dutchmans Cap; so very like this dutch headgear it in its old fashioned form. The land contrasts with the sea in a strange way - the greens and the blue sea interspersed with green. The October hue of green being dark on the hillocks and amidst the rocky prominotories. A scattering of seawead is already on the beaches after the high winds but, dear me, of what poor quality compared to what we were used to in years gone by.
Anyway, among this weed lots of seagulls rummage to get food; the starlings are down at it too while the eider ducks keep to the edge of the water to gain whatever sustenance there be available.
So that is what my little walk provided for me to view yesterday, and going on normality the next time is bound to be different; but I'm sure to blog on this theme again; a change from crofts and crofting, or at the worst, nuclear power stations.

Standing at the window yesterday, a good day at this time of year, and looking out at the little bay near by , it suddenly came in on me, how would I feel if I had been blind. Just think what I would have missed - an extraordinary view, giving me a strong sense of appreciation for a very beautiful aspect filling my being with pleasure. At a time such as this, I ask myself, what do the sightless miss, and how do they feel about it. There must be something within their darkness, which gives them, too, joyful feelings that they can express, without this they would be very dull. but from what I've gathered the beauty would appear to be within and not imported from the outside.

Now that I am on about aspects of beauty, as I proceed further than the delightful setting of my home, another equally pleasant scene meets my view, a natural harbour with its stone built jetty, And when I say stone,each individual stone is huge. It was probably built about the mid 18th centuary maybe for the fishing. But for me this little cove has nostalgic recollections of another way of life - the Puffer trade. They tied up here throught the Summer seasons; but alas it is no longer part of my happy moments.

Yes, good thoughts regarding the past even though with a certain void, while the here- and- now fullfils as yet. Really, are we all that different from the sightless as regards feelings and aspirations.

Recently, I got two comments to one of my blogs, very acceptable, and I dedicate this blog to both, as I'm sure that this is as good any way to get, to get in touch in return. "I love the Ocean," says one, and the other says, that it could'nt be anything but close to a beach on Tiree.
Sunday was a good day, and I was feeling down a bit. such is my make up unfortunately, a walk by the coastline was the only answer to improve the situation. In my last blog I mentioned the Old Harbour, I went in its direction this time again, of this I never tire. There is an old boat's keel lying there in the sand in the bay. it has been there during my lifetime and quite a while before although not in this final termination. These are the remains of a sailing gabbard called the "Mary Stewart" which like so many others of the same kind sailed around the west coast with various cargoes - indeed a legend in their day.
This time I decided to go even further afield and visit the new pier, which though called new has served the Island over many years. It was wonderful to see again the green fields and pastures sloping towards sandy bays.
In the distance I could see the well known Gott Bay, the largest on the Island. Today in the fresh breeze surfing was being enjoyed as many sails scudded across the bay. It is no detriment to every day life here that many enjoy this sport especially at this time of year.
Yes, I had a refereshing and rewarding stroll having been in communion with my natural surroundings - something that is appreciated by many and in different forms.

Each morning when I draw back the curtains and see my little bay, different from each time previously. If I lived till a hundred years or more I'd find it exceedingly difficult to define these subtle changes even with the artists brush. How, indeed would the poet moved by the muse approach it to supply verses of his art. I don't realy know. But the image that gets my brain functoning - gets the millions of cells going in such a remarkable way awakening my intericate sense of perception to an all feeling inistinct.
Britain, a veritable island, surrounded by seas, has left its special mark on the ancient and modern lore of the sea, since the first brave soul soul fashioned a basic coracle to cross a river mouth or cast a line to fish or even be more adventurous over the brine.
As I bring my little bay into focus again, my imigination is kindled towards my dear Scotland with a history of ships and sails; boats of every kind and size. But let us not at this moment languish in sadness about the losses and non -returnings when beauty proves to be cruel.
But as I continue to gaze on my bay where the eider ducks visit and the sea gulls cry; the oyster - catcher stabs his long red beak; I say to myself, my imigination could be anybodys, with no beginning or end.

It's an old story, and really, I don't enjoy imposing it on people afresh with so much undignified narrative asailing us one way or another, daily. Might it be a good idea to bring the past to the surface again.
But, is there, at the same time, something to be learned from former happenings? I believe there is. As a Highlander and a Scotsman, I am reminded of the disgusting ways in which people were dealt with by those who should have known better.
The HIGHLAND CLEARANCES were an unhappy episode in the history of the world, where many horrifying incidents have occurred and shameful, by equal and worse degrees.
Do we ever learn having heard of or witnessed such calamities perpetrated by our fellow men. I think that there is no doubt regarding the down - right disrespect for the indgenious populations of the Highlands, that we have a definate right to our reminiscences - the ceilidh house, though, has disappeared.
We who are Highland must be reminded that we still suffer from that unfortunate past. The straths and glens and of course the islands, which suffer seriously from depopulation these latter days; we can relate to these far off days as the reason for the demise.
This has almost modern day tone to it, people were by force evicted from their homes to meet with the landlords' avowded idea of development. The idea of going over - seas to distant lands was unbeleiveable to these native residents; It was like being in danger of falling off the edge of the world. To sail over the oceans was an immense undertaking; with no prospect of returning; the edifying culture and traditions waned and the malaise remains.