Sunday 23/12/2018

More of the same today: a little colder and greyer, the clouds slightly lower with the odd spit and spot of rain but still mild enough to be more like a Cotswold winter`s day than the sort of thing we expect in these northern climes.
Just taken a last stroll outside, the moon veiled by cloud, next door`s shimmering Christmas lights casting pale shadows and moths everywhere. All a little bit mystical.

Saturday 22.12.2018

A soft winter`s afternoon, crisp enough underfoot but still and quiet, the fast disappearing sun casting long shadows beneath a sky of pastel blues and pinks turning to gold as we returned.


And on the way down the road, a murmuration of starlings swirling over the fields. It really is an amazing sight....and halfway through the display a smaller band - a mumurette? - joined them in a manoeuvre that made the Red Arrows look like clumsy amateurs.

The RSPB explain it thus:
"We think that starlings do it for many reasons. Grouping together offers safety in numbers – predators such as peregrine falcons find it hard to target one bird in the middle of a hypnotising flock of thousands. They also gather to keep warm at night and to exchange information, such as good feeding areas."

Of course they could have been simply having fun. :)

Sunday 16.12.18

So, as the song goes, what a difference a day makes. Set off twenty or so minutes later than yesterday, crisp and still, plenty of light left even though the sun had already sunk below the trees on the horizon.
A soft rosy sky saw us home

and yesterday was just a distant memory.

Saturday 15.12.18

Storm Deirdre did her best to knock us over on the open road but once in the woods it was all sound and not much fury. No point taking either camera or binoculars - too gloomy even at half 2 for taking pictures and what birds that were out flashed past in an instant.

In amongst the trees it was simply, deliciously,exhilarating. Branches whipped backwards and forwards in a noisy, demonic sort of dance,while at the same time, for all their writhing and flailing, protecting us from the blast.

That caught us again full on as we stepped out once more onto the road, past singing gates and wailing wires, stumbling into the house breathless but invigorated. And as I write Deirdre is still making a lot of fuss but is due to depart overnight. Bit of a shame really.

Wednesday 5.12.2018

"Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone" always buzzes round in the head on days like this. Twenty past 2 on a completely still winter afternoon, the sun already below the clouds on the horizon,

grasses frozen into icy white immobility

and the cry of a suddenly disturbed pheasant the only sound echoing across the silence.






A long weekend`s house-sitting and dog-walking afforded the chance to enjoy different landscapes, along old railway-line paths bounded by trees and water

and up onto the local fell (The Campsies) in surprisingly warm December sunshine.

Good company

and all this only a dozen miles or so from the centre of Glasgow.