August
So I’m back. With a lot of pictures - and this is just a small selection.
Joe went back to school on Wednesday, but I had some official stuff to deal with, and then we had a power cut and, on a separate occasion, the internet went down. So it feels like today’s the first time I’m actually getting around to ticking things off my list.
I looked back at the previous post where I was so frustrated and stressed, and I considered removing it - but decided not to because this blog is a record of my life (what I decide to share, anyway) and it’s not always sunshine and roses. Especially during These Uncertain Times…
We’ve been out and about as much as possible. Locally mostly, but with a few trips down to the south of the island: Kylerhea, Armadale, the Kinloch forest. I was so relieved when the summer holidays began officially and we could shelve the schoolwork. It was sad to see Joe having his end of year party online, with only soft toys for company. It marked the end of him being in the ‘little’ class - he’s now moved up to P4 with the older ones. He’s 8 at the end of this month.
We’ve been keeping busy in lots of ways: visiting friends for birthday parties and trips to the beach, going for daily walks, fishing and crabbing, eating lunch in the garden (we’ve had some really hot weather). I’ve lost count of how many jigsaws we’ve done, and games of Frustration we’ve played. We’ve baked and made elderflower cordial. We’ve watched films and lots of episodes of Malcolm in the Middle and The Middle. Similar names, different programmes. Slapstick enough for Joe to enjoy, with enough wry grown up humour for me to appreciate.
Determined not to be completely defeated in terms of creative output, I managed to teach myself basic Lightroom editing skills. I haven’t felt the urge to do any printmaking lately but have been sketching instead because I like illustration and illustrating. And I’ve been really enjoying my photography too. And writing.
I think I’m still getting used to having time alone to just think and, hopefully, get inspired.
The tourists suddenly seemed to descend here over the past few weeks. They’re a source of anxiety for some, income for many, and irritation for others. I think it’s vital that businesses are able to open up again, but the usual problems (litter, bad driving and parking - a basic lack of consideration for residents and the environment) are here again. I suppose we live in a world where a sense of entitlement eclipses a sense of responsibility, and it’s sad.
But we’ve also met some great people. It’s easy to tar visitors with the same brush when you only really see the negative effects of tourism because they’re more obvious. Plenty come here because they appreciate Skye and the landscape, and they despair too at the selfish minority.
But despite all these visitors and the hot weather, there’s a sense of summer coming slowly to a close. The wild geese arrived a couple of weeks ago - I love hearing them flying over the house, and they spend a lot of time in the fields near school, so we get to see them every morning.
I love autumn best of all. Walks in the woods, predictably twee Hallmark movies, hearty food, jumpers. For me, it begins in August when the first leaves start to turn and we spot mushrooms and toadstools hiding beneath the birches. The thistles are dispensing their seeds (‘sugar stealers’) and the berries on the rowans and hawthorns are ripe. I’ve noticed more spiders in the house. There’s a vase of teasels and poppy seed heads in the living room because I love dead plant material...
You have to leave the door open for autumn so it can quietly come in.
We’re (hopefully) going to Lancashire in October to see friends and family, and visit old and familiar haunts. I have a list ready. I’m crossing my fingers that there’s no sudden lockdown imposed.
The library is still closed. As far as I know, so is the Viewfield Collective garden in Portree. I miss going to both.
Speaking of libraries, I bought a secondhand bookcase for £20 a month or so ago. It was in that 90s classic, ‘honey pine’. It’s since been stripped, sanded and painted in what I thought was white (it looked white in the outbuilding) but it has a grey tint to it. Whatever, I’m not repainting it again. But now my books - some of them, anyway - have a home. It’s good to have them close to hand. I considered displaying them in colour order but decided against it because I couldn’t be bothered, and because I prefer to arrange them like with like. Poetry, novels by author and genre, classics. Non fiction by subject.
I do still have my ‘Prefect’ and ‘Librarian’ badges from my sixth form days.
I’ve ordered Joe the first Harry Potter book for one of his birthday presents. I think he’ll manage it as he’s a keen reader. He’s asked for a catapult too, so he can take down the crows in the sycamore in the front garden. I don’t think that’s legal (or particularly humane, even though they’re a pest) so I might ignore that particular request.
We’ve accrued quite the collection of nature finds, and are busy curating them - I’ve got three wooden boxes which are divided into sections. They originally had kids’ rubber stamps in them (Melissa & Doug, TK Maxx) but I’ve painted them dark grey so Joe’s treasures stand out. They’re our take on Victorian cabinets of curiosity. We’ve got feathers, crystals, bird skulls, two abandoned nests (one built by hornets, the other by birds), sea and urchin shells…
We also found a dead fox up at ‘The Haunted Campsite’ and returned after a month or so to collect the skull, which is currently sitting outside in a bucket of water and biological laundry liquid to get it clean. The things you do for your offspring.
Even though I’ve been away from the blog, I’ve been posting occasionally on Facebook and regularly on Instagram. I like Instagram because it’s quick, but I don’t think I’ll be abandoning my website in favour of it. Although it could be a better place to sell my artwork - something to look into.
I’ve managed to find small moments of sanctuary during the past five months: so important when your days are spent being followed from room to room and talked at relentlessly. Pockets of escape where I’ve let Joe watch TV or play games on the laptop. I’ve scrolled through Pinterest and the Architectural Digest website, planned writing sessions which are short enough to avoid me feeling daunted (I’ve saved simple journal prompts from Pinterest, and bought some new notebooks for making random lists and noting down quotes and bits of poetry). I’ve flicked through stacks of old magazines and rediscovered inspiring ideas and photography.
I’ve also bought a few new CDs for in the car (Joe tends to get quite reflective when he listens to music); Johnny Flynn and The Staves. We cover a lot of miles living here, and that’s a lot of music. We usually go for noisy stuff like 80s metal or early Green Day, and Kings of Leon in their hillbilly period, but I’m partial to folk and folk rock too.
It’s nice to be back. There was a lot to include in this post, to bring things up to date and to try and document our long spring and summer in pictures. I don’t know what my next post will be about but it feels good to be starting a new page. It’s that (almost) September, new term feeling.
Lastly, I just want to say thank you to those who commented on my previous post. I hope someone’s still reading this… I was in the process of setting up a newsletter but that fell by the wayside, along with so many other things.
A reader over on the Outer Isles kindly sent me a lovely surprise parcel of goodies to cheer me up - it worked - and we’ve had other packages delivered from the school: colouring books and pencils, a mini microscope, a bubble making kit, chocolate. Joe also received a signed copy of this book (one of his teachers is friends with the author, who I follow on Instagram so am slightly starstruck), and our soon-to-be neighbours who are building a house on the hill behind us came over with gifts to apologise because they had to use the digger early one morning.
Even in these uncertain times (uncertainty affects me deeply), lots of small good things happen. I hope you’re staying safe and well.
