On precious days wrestled from the wind, and from whatever it carries with it, there’s a stillness about the island – like a liquer you could bottle.
There’s a collective sigh of relief, in my case – a hefty intake of breath – before I climb
the next ridge in my quest to discover what makes up my new island home.
Along the route the smallest of plants find shelter in any nook or cranny.. here in the ‘bowl’ formed by the top of a wooden fence post..out of reach to the Luing bull brooding nearby.
While work gathers pace in the garden to make it a happy place for adults, and safe for visiting children before the winter sets in, I head out on foot, waylaid each step of the way..it’s hard to avoid crushing some beautiful plants.
They are nestled in cushions of moss and grasses that protect them, and they bounce back like a luxury carpet as I move away. Equally tiny creatures must move amongst these miniature forests and glades..
It will be fun to show my grandson Jax, who was two a few days ago, the wonders of these worlds at ground level..although he may be surprised there are no potatoes to harvest..
Happy Birthday Jax!