A life well lived

A few weeks ago I lost my father to cancer. I don't need to explain how hard that was. But even with all that pain I still saw life as worth living and felt grateful for so much. He had his family around him when he was dying - every day visitors came to be by his bedside, daffodils from his farm were brought and his room filled with huge yellow, cream and salmon pink blooms. There was talking and laughter, and cakes eaten, while he said he was going to do his best to try to eat and get better. Then the news came from the doctor. We were taken aside and told all treatment would be stopped and there was nothing more they could do except make him comfortable and withdraw fluids and food. I walked out of the meeting early as I had to leave to collect my stepson to bring him home to Edinburgh. I couldn't betray with my tear stained face the truth to my father, that he wasn't going to survive this and he was dying. He did not want to die. Had not accepted it. He would have fought the news and been scared. He wanted to go back to his farm and feed his hens and plant potatoes and carry on with his life. He'd chosen the spot to plant the potatoes.

It was a three and a half hour round trip to collect my lovely stepson. I cried all the way knowing that my father had very little time left with us. I hugged my little stepson tightly when I saw him. My father, who had been born on his farm and lived 81 years on that same patch of land, wanted to go home. But we couldn't bring him home. We couldn't because his medical needs were too great. Instead we watched him die over seven days in his flower filled room, sleeping away the pain in a morphine dream. We did finally bring him home after a church service filled to the brim with folk and flowers. Flowers from his farm tied into large bunches of daffodils with branches of red current and cherry blossom and yellow sprigs picked from his gardens. Music from the Scottish Fiddle Orchestra played a bouncy tune. Smiles through the tears. Then his final journey back to his farm with a convoy of cars snaking their way through the country road to home, the trip he had taken thousands of times on foot as a boy, and by car and tractor and pick up truck, throughout the years. We buried him on top of the hill he'd picked out years before. His last view, lovely across his fields to the Galloway hills beyond.

And in all that sadness there is still much to love about life. My little Edinburgh family and my rescue dog who give hugs whenever I need them. The kindness of neighbours and friends, gently checking in that I am OK. The memories I have of him, and the rich land he left behind on the farm he planted with trees, and pretty roses and honeysuckles, and bright rhododendrons. And daffodils. Hundreds of daffodils that fill every space in spring and which eventually heralded his departure from us. They will sing to us every year when they bloom, to remind us all that he was here. And he is still here.

A Scottish Hallow'een and Samhuinn Fire Festival

This is one of my most absolute favourite times of the year. The crisp bright mornings full of golds and reds and browns and fading greens as the trees turn and the leaves fall, heralding the return of winter. In these parts it means the return of a long dark period when the months grow slower as we wait for the return of the sun and any hint of warmth in the air. It has also recently been Hallow'een and we love Hallow'een in Scotland. Hallow'een has always been a very important festival here. Yes, it's primarily a children's festival, for dressing up to go guising for sweets at neighbours houses. But this is an old festival which has travelled down through the centuries, and within the dressing up and the pumpkin carving (traditionally turnips in Scotland, but they have made way for the easily carved American pumpkin) lingers the remnants of something much older. Hallow'een is the day the spirits walk amongst us looking for those souls who are to be taken away back to the spirit world. Dressing up to disguise ourselves was done in the belief us mortals could hide amongst them so they wouldn't recognise us as living souls and snatch us away.  The Celtic festival at this time is Samhuinn, also known as the Fire Festival. The Celtic cultural traditions run through Scotland still and haunt our festivals. The American style of Hallow'een originates from these, which later became All Hallows Eve through Christian influences. But our old world still permeates down through the centuries on the 31st October and is more Pagan than Christian.

The Samhuinn festival celebrates the Winter Gods overthrowing the Summer Gods, bringing in the Celtic New Year on the 31st October.

The Beltane Society in Edinburgh celebrates the festival in style each year.

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It is a dramatic, magical and otherworldly event. Beautiful too. Even frightening.

Costumes are dramatic and mystical.

Fire is a reassuring and powerful influence, bringing light and warmth in the coming dark months.

It is worth visiting Edinburgh for one of these festivals. There is also the Beltane Festival celebrated on the 31st April. 

https://beltane.org/

We also celebrated Hallow'een at home, with a party in the garden. Children and adults dressed up and there was mulled cider, and a BBQ and sweets and apple dunkin, and donuts tied on strings, dripping with honey. It was fun and silly and to be repeated. 

Happy Hallow'een Everyone.......

Our Sunday Routine

This week has been a long busy week as I rushed through the usual never ending list of 'to do's'. It was a particularly challenging week with a few things going wrong (like mislaying my house keys twice!) and had me thinking how precious time is and how it does seem to start running away with you as you get older. My days are full to the brim from the moment I get up to the short time in the evening when I can stop, sit, and maybe watch an hour of my favourite tv, or catch a few pages of my current book. Those moments, when they come, feel stolen and I look forward to them during the day. We try to relax at the weekends but there are still some obligations to be met, especially the ones preparing for the week ahead. But on Sunday's I do try to step back from it all and really take time out, I may still do chores and organise things in preparation, but it is done at a slower pace with less stress on the clock. Thank goodness we don't have the tradition of eating a huge roast dinner at lunchtime - all lovingly prepared by hand.... In fact we usually have a roast on Saturday nights when I can listen to the radio as I chop and prepare and cook.  Sunday's are easier, they start slow, although still at an early hour. I make pancakes for breakfast - Scottish ones, the recipe is here - and they are eaten in the sitting room with Nutella or jam and a cup of tea or glass of milk depending on the age of the breakfaster.

Scottish Pancakes

The little one plays with his toys or stretches out on the sofa with the ipad. We stay in PJs and take our time. Then it's out with the dog, who I may add and have mentioned before, is happy to stay in bed well until 11am....! But he needs his fresh air and a stretch of his legs, which means I get it to. This morning was blissful in the autumnal light walking through the greens and browns of the fading summer foliage.

I usually make a soup for lunch, boiling up stock from the bones from the roast the night before if it was chicken. We Scots do like our soups in the colder weather, and I have a Frenchman here who adores soups too.  With big chunks of bread and maybe some cheese afterwards, this is a tasty and satisfying lunch with little fuss. I always think soup really doesn't take much time to prepare at all and I can do a big pot of soup in a jiffy. It's usually very traditional, nothing fancy in this house, a chicken and rice, or a lentil soup. Although I have a wonderful recipe for Pea and Lettuce Soup here if you scroll to the bottom of the post, one of my absolute favourites.

Pea and Lettuce Soup

In the afternoons we usually spend time in the garden unless it's raining, I'll potter about with plants while the boys swing from trees, kick a ball around or go fishing for minnows in the Water of Leith. On colder days we'll stay inside with a fire on and watch a film or mooch about doing not very much if that 'to do' list allows. Occasionally it does creep in and try to take over but I do really try to keep Sundays relaxed with few obligations. Although that in itself can be a challenge.

Woodcraft lessons in the garden, in preparation for winter.

Some of the potatoes from the garden this year

Relaxing....

There is usually a cake in the kitchen, quite a plain cake, nothing fancy with lots of icing or decoration. Maybe a Victoria sponge, or a plain chocolate sponge with a dusting of cocoa and sugar on top. Ready for a slice to be taken with a cup of tea in front of the fire at any time.

Always time for cake.....

I hope you are having a lovely Sunday too? 

Windy Walks and Cosy Reads

Everyday life here has its routines like all households and I actually really enjoy these.  In fact they are precious to me as they are the cornerstone of life with my little family. Walking Thumper twice a day is one of these routines and we often go along the same routes which are close by the house as I'm usually squeezing them in between work obligations. I think Thumper gets a little bored and needs a bit of a change so occasionally we head out in the car and go a bit further afield. This time it was to Craiglockhart Hill, which is actually only about 10 minutes in the car but is an exciting journey to new smells and places to explore for a doggy nose.

It was sunny but very windy the other day. At the top of the hill we saw the beautiful views

We headed down through the trees back to the car after quite a walk through the woods and up to the hill, and then the weather came in. And we got this

   

A full blown gale and heavy rain. It was pretty wild and it was definitely time to head for the car - although I have to say I love wild weather. But Thumper....not so much! 

When the weather turns to this I turn to books and cosying up next to a fire. With blankets and pots of tea and always some cake. And the rain lashing against the window - bliss! Scotland does bad weather very well and gives plenty of excuse for relaxing with books or an old black and white film. If you want some inspiration for books throughout the coming colder months may I offer my suggestions? 

The Wild Hunt of Hagworthy by Penelope Lively. One of the best children's writers I know of. A wonderful story set in Somerset, full of mystery and superstition. 

A children's story? Oh yes, but just as much fun for adults who don't take themselves too seriously. The writing makes good enough reading for any adult. This book isn't so readily available but it's worth hunting down a copy. 

The Taxidermists Daughter by Kate Mosse....actually any of her books. She can create atmosphere and suspense beautifully and her writing describes the creeping grey weather of Britain so well in this book.

House of Echoes by Barbara Erskine, (and again any of her books). But I do remember this was the first of her books I read many years ago and being really quite freaked out by how creepy the story was.

Good old fashioned ghost stories are Ms Erskine's forte and you can't beat them for a nice page turner which will give you a chill running down your neck!

You'll have noticed a theme to these books - a good mystery waiting to be solved in all the stories. Perfect reading for me. I hope you might be inspired to read them if you haven't already. If my love of mystery and superstition needs any explaining I can offer this.....

I was brought up in an old house full of antiquarian books and my two favourites were The Tinkler Gypsies and the one above, Witchcraft and Superstitious Record by J Maxwell Wood published in 1911. It is full of historic ghost stories and superstitions of Galloway where the remote farm I grew up in is located. And the nearby farms and villages named in the book were all around, allowing a young child's mind to roam freely amongst the old stories of these old places. So you see, all this love of mystery and ghost stories is really not my fault......

Until next time!

(I found this beautiful fungi on my walk with Thumper at Craiglockhart Hill. It was huge!)

Escape To The Farm

Last weekend I whizzed down to stay with my parents for a couple of nights at the farm as I hadn't seen them for some weeks. The farm is beautiful in summer, and the longer days are all the better to spend time outside in the fresh air. The days are warm and the nights chilly now as autumn sets in.

My Dad and I visited a neighbouring farmer to talk about local history. My Dad is a history boff and writes articles for a local magazine. We set off after buying his paper at the local village shop and trundled up the long gravel road to the farm. It sits up high on the hill looking over the valley below and across to the village of New Galloway. It's a beautiful setting and a farm I have always wanted to visit. It's an old place, like many of the farm settlements in the area and they haven't changed much from the time they were built, some 200 or 300 years ago. The walls are thick local stone, usually painted white. These farms are dotted all around the green countryside, a constant reminder of older times and a history long past, but the lifestyle still lingers in these rural homes. Farming and hard work combined with tradition, and even some superstition.

These farms have wonderful names like Killochy, Torwatltie, Torwilkie, Barnshalloch. Beautiful old names with their own individual meaning, in a language long gone.

It is a place not much visited by tourists, not busy like the Lake District just a couple of hours away by car, and just as beautiful. And so it retains a sense of self, not chocolate boxed or set in aspic. But it has its own glamour - it was here that Outlander's Sam Heughan was brought up and went to school.

After a long chat about bad men roaming the countryside in the 17th century and the awful deeds carried out on the local farmers, my Dad and I drove back home for some lunch. Our farm is much like all the other local ones in this area, small and old and not much changed. You can sit a while amongst the stones and fall back in time easily. Just like Outlander's Claire Randall. It's not hard to imagine 200 or 300 years falling away.

Bramble Picking And Other September Pleasures

So this weekend the children were playing in the garden and spotted some brambles ready for picking and had a little feast and came home with smears of blackberry juice on their faces. We then decided to have an official bramble picking outing with three small boys in tow. They went exploring up and around the back of the houses in the woods and found a huge bramble patch untouched by others and drooping with lots of little juicy jewels provided so lovingly by Mother Nature.  They came back full of cheer with a big tub of fruit and went straight to the neighbours' house to make jam (this was a community effort!) ready for the afternoon. I was on scone duty and had my orders to produce a batch ready for a feast when the jam was done.

The scones were in the oven and ready in a flash (15 minutes) and were lightly browned.

My recipe for scones is here

I keep my scones small and light, not big and heavy, so they don't end up sticking you teeth together!

Then it was down to the garden to eat them with the children's jam and a pot of double cream.



They went down a treat with everyone wanting seconds, I think I should have made a second batch...

Thumper tried to get in on the action. I relented and gave him a bit of mine.

The jam was really delicious, with a wonderful deep purple colour, and was heaven with the cream.

When they were finished everyone wanted more! And the and result was blackberry faces all round.



A very lovely Sunday afternoon. And one to be repeated as we have plenty of jam already and the bramble season isn't even in full swing yet. I can see me having pots of it in my cupboard soon, ready for winter.

I will have to post a lovely recipe for a jam pudding when the weather really has turned for the worse and it's time for puddings and custard.

At the moment I am still enjoying the lovely final days of summer.

It was beautifully warm yesterday morning and I woke up very early (I am not a morning person!) and after a cup of tea and looking out the window at the most gorgeously pink morning I decided to get Thumper out of his bed (he is also not one for getting out of his bed in the morning!) and headed out for a walk. It was so lovely, I am very glad I did.

It was magical walking along in the pink light, and with very few people around - a couple of runners and dog walkers only. 

 

It always seems as if this path is leading somewhere very special, even though I am very familiar with it, it still holds a magical appeal.

Thumper met a friend and had a great run and play and paddle in the water, then played King of The Castle on the rocks.

And then he did a good impression of the Loch Ness Monster ;)

As Summer Fades

Oh, how lovely the summer has been, and how quickly autumn seems to approach. Although for me this is a wonderful time too. The sense of change in the air, as Mother Nature begins to turn her wheel again and prepare us for the new colder days. The wind has started to swirl, the trees are being blown about and the ground is slowly beginning to cover with dried broken twigs and leaves. The flowers are fading and that exciting feeling simmering below the surface of coming days of jumpers, and thick tights and boots, and sheltering from the rain, and warming soups and old fashioned puddings. All things I love.

 We have had bursts of sunny days, not something to be taken for granted in Scotland.

With lazy days in the garden

 We've spent time with friends and family....eating much of the time.

The children played freely

And we had BBQ's and picnics in the garden until evening.

And Thumper did his usual thing.....