The nights are drawing in...
Posted: Sunday, 19 October 2008 |
It seems like the summer (what there was of it weather-wise) is finally over. The music festival, with it's influx of musicians and revellers, has been and gone but even after the traditional 'end of summer' weekend we have still managed a few random gatherings as well as a wedding, birthdays and an engagement (congratulations all round).
The pace has slackened a little as the nights draw in, giving people time to catch up with indoors jobs and socialising amongst ourselves for a change. Heading back down the road from dinner at the other end of the bay on Friday at a quarter to one in the morning it was odd seeing the lights of the pub out and the village all quiet and still.
I like this time of year though. I like the quiet emptiness of the landscape which has turned vibrant shades of red and orange and brown against the sharp granite Paps. I like the slate-grey sea, the windswept beaches and the unexpected moments of warm sunshine. I like walking in the gloaming and experiencing the different shapes of the landscape in the half-light. I like sitting by the fire with friends talking about plans and ideas, big and small, or on my own - just me and the crackle and hiss of the flame.
The drive through the darkness to a friend's house which sits all aglow with warmth and light in the early dusk. The small sessions in the pub - music being played just for the love of it and for the few of us there. It is these small moments in life that make me feel more solid and grounded. More myself.
The small moments in life - where would I be without them?
The pace has slackened a little as the nights draw in, giving people time to catch up with indoors jobs and socialising amongst ourselves for a change. Heading back down the road from dinner at the other end of the bay on Friday at a quarter to one in the morning it was odd seeing the lights of the pub out and the village all quiet and still.
I like this time of year though. I like the quiet emptiness of the landscape which has turned vibrant shades of red and orange and brown against the sharp granite Paps. I like the slate-grey sea, the windswept beaches and the unexpected moments of warm sunshine. I like walking in the gloaming and experiencing the different shapes of the landscape in the half-light. I like sitting by the fire with friends talking about plans and ideas, big and small, or on my own - just me and the crackle and hiss of the flame.
The drive through the darkness to a friend's house which sits all aglow with warmth and light in the early dusk. The small sessions in the pub - music being played just for the love of it and for the few of us there. It is these small moments in life that make me feel more solid and grounded. More myself.
The small moments in life - where would I be without them?
Posted on Life on Jura at 23:20
Perspective
Posted: Friday, 31 October 2008 |
Another, crystal-clear bright day today. Without the haze (or rain) of summer the hills appear more clearly focussed. The air is sharp with cold and the light is just so pure.
It's a bit of a change from the weather we have been having for a long while now, which has mainly involved at least some rain most days even if the sun has cracked through the clouds at times. But the temperature dropped noticeably earlier on this week and, one day whilst making my way to work, I glanced up at the Paps and couldn't help but stop and stare at the normally grey peaks softly dusted with a thin layer of snow. It feels like a long time since I have seen that view.
Much of my time over the last week has been spent up the north end of the island and I have been lucky enough to view the snow-dusted Paps from a variety of angles, first framed by moody clouds and then by brilliant, clear-blue skies. I love the little glimpses you get of them from all over the island, but I think I would be hard pushed to improve on the view of them steadily rising up from the Ardmenish Flats.
I love spending time in the north of the island and am still constantly astounded by the beauty of the place and overwhelmed by how little of the vast expanse I have actually explored. Hill machine tracks snake their way up the sides of hills whose names I don't know. Footpaths disappear off into unexplored woodland. Nameless rivers run down to bays, hidden form view behind rocks and braes.
Even a simple job - having to deliver leaflets to every house on Jura - recently opened up amazing wee corners of the island which I pass by all too often. It was a day spent reminiscing about the people who lived in certain houses when I was young, about parties I had attended, and for a few firsts too. Almost unbelievably it was the first time I had ever been to Lussagiven which is at the end of a very short track on the road to Ardlussa. You can see all three houses from the road, but I had never ventured down the 50m track to gaze at the view these houses share. Just a small change of perspective maybe, but it helped me view a place from a whole new angle.
Every so often, when driving down the road, I catch a view of the receding landscape in the wing mirror and even just the simple action of flipping and framing the landscape makes it like a new, fresh picture again. That might sound strange I know, but when you grow up midst such stunning beauty it is all to easy to take it for granted. As much as I am eternally grateful for always having had Jura in my life, I am sometimes a little jealous of the wow factor first time visitors must experience when they see the place. Especially on a beautiful, crisp autumn day like today.
It's a bit of a change from the weather we have been having for a long while now, which has mainly involved at least some rain most days even if the sun has cracked through the clouds at times. But the temperature dropped noticeably earlier on this week and, one day whilst making my way to work, I glanced up at the Paps and couldn't help but stop and stare at the normally grey peaks softly dusted with a thin layer of snow. It feels like a long time since I have seen that view.
Much of my time over the last week has been spent up the north end of the island and I have been lucky enough to view the snow-dusted Paps from a variety of angles, first framed by moody clouds and then by brilliant, clear-blue skies. I love the little glimpses you get of them from all over the island, but I think I would be hard pushed to improve on the view of them steadily rising up from the Ardmenish Flats.
I love spending time in the north of the island and am still constantly astounded by the beauty of the place and overwhelmed by how little of the vast expanse I have actually explored. Hill machine tracks snake their way up the sides of hills whose names I don't know. Footpaths disappear off into unexplored woodland. Nameless rivers run down to bays, hidden form view behind rocks and braes.
Even a simple job - having to deliver leaflets to every house on Jura - recently opened up amazing wee corners of the island which I pass by all too often. It was a day spent reminiscing about the people who lived in certain houses when I was young, about parties I had attended, and for a few firsts too. Almost unbelievably it was the first time I had ever been to Lussagiven which is at the end of a very short track on the road to Ardlussa. You can see all three houses from the road, but I had never ventured down the 50m track to gaze at the view these houses share. Just a small change of perspective maybe, but it helped me view a place from a whole new angle.
Every so often, when driving down the road, I catch a view of the receding landscape in the wing mirror and even just the simple action of flipping and framing the landscape makes it like a new, fresh picture again. That might sound strange I know, but when you grow up midst such stunning beauty it is all to easy to take it for granted. As much as I am eternally grateful for always having had Jura in my life, I am sometimes a little jealous of the wow factor first time visitors must experience when they see the place. Especially on a beautiful, crisp autumn day like today.
Posted on Life on Jura at 16:40
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