· stillpoint ·

  I was walking along the canal a few days ago in the light rain when suddenly beside me flew a swan, her white iridescent wings sweeping effortlessly (and silently) over the dark waters.  Into the damp and cold greyness of an early Scottish January swooped a creature of light.  Changeless as the seasons change around her, she was a harbinger of that deep down freshness of things that is ever old and ever new. In a canine explosion next to me Bella set off alongside as fast as her Labrador legs, heart and lungs could carry her.  Two more languid sweeps of the majestic wings and the swan was already out of reach with Bella stubbornly carrying on until even she could see she was outmatched by the great bird.  We both looked at each other and agreed it had been a moment. On the way home we passed the heron again remaining in the exact same place except this time he was taking his time swallowing a fish.   The question of how herons, in their eternal, pret...

 Early winter in Scotland is a season with few bright and spectacular colours.  Shades of grey frame the ubiquitous brown bracken under which the land sleeps.  Early snows haven't yet developed the vivid sparkle that comes with greater depth and cold mornings and the lochs reflect the white and the greys in stillness or movement.  Patches of green are also to be found along the path,  and of course on the conifers scattered around and the black of the bark wet after the rain.  Leached yellow grasses(that display no recollection of sunlight)  on the upper slopes, awaiting the new life of spring.  Greys, browns, faded greens and yellows and the scattered whites of early snow provide a pallet befitting this season of  rest and loss.    Living with the seasons of our life and owning whichever season we are in can be tricky.  If you are a sunny and relentlessly positive like me it can be difficult to admit it is winter.  Not fa...