Walks of Life

 

My life would be very dull without the procession of the seasons. When I first came to live in this fishing village in the east coast of Scotland almost a decade ago, I was not conscious of how the life of the village is synchronised with the seasons; the time to stop fishing, the time to mend the nets and the time to repair the boats in the long light of summer in the harbour. It seems to me that the seasons are the invisible rulers of our village. 

"Say, is there Beauty yet to find?/And Certainty? and Quiet kind?" Rupert Brooke

Here we are, in the beginning of the New Year, still living under the strict national lockdown. There are calls to tighten the rules further in the face of overwhelming numbers of people with the virus being admitted to hospital. A lot of people are being fined by the police for bending the rules, which I think is a sure sign of losing what I call “staying power” to abide by the draconian policies to reduce social contact. Some of my friends who are gregarious by nature find it very difficult to suspend all types of freedom they have taken for granted.

In our society, a sign of introversion is viewed with suspension. Since the early days of our childhood, we are encouraged to learn to work in groups or teams to achieve collective goals. There is a local saying: 'Shy bairns get nae sweets'. I must confess that I am lucky to be an introvert during the lockdown. When all our movements are curtailed, it makes me more observant of things in nature that are innately spiritual; how one season unfolds after another in sequence like clockwork and how it forces us to slow down and feel the effect of these changes through the sounds, sights, and smells. Every season has a touch of paradise, something special.

Growing up in the city, I did not possess the gift of knowing the seasons. I had to learn everything from scratch. Here, away from the noise of traffic, when you walk in the wood, you have the feeling that you are walking into infinity. Without the pandemic lockdown, I shall never have this opportunity to make friends with nature.

~ A life filled with wonder is a wonderful life. ~    

Nature and I develop a mutual understanding during the winter months and we agree not to blame each other for turning inwards and seeking our inner resources rather than external stimulations. On a foggy day, you can almost feel earth stretching itself out to sleep when the sea mist blurs into grey clouds. Seagulls float through the air like paper darts.

The trees look bare and stunted by the harsh winds. The sky is a pale, larkspur blue and there are mistle thrushes coming down onto the ground from the leafless branches to sing for us. The ground is often frozen with a sheet of ice. A wool coat and Wellingtons make it bearable to walk in this freezing temperature.

Monthly delivery of logs to keep the home fire burning. 

Library is the warmest room in the house during the bitterly cold Scottish winter months.

There is always something new to discover when I go out for a walk in the wood. There are signs of nature reawakening after hibernation. A few little buds, the leaf shoots and many subtle shades of green have emerged on the sunlit ground. 

St. Francis of Assisi is well known for his love of God's creation; the beauties of nature. According to the legend, he makes friends with nature by talking to the animals and the trees. 'Then he came upon the almond tree, and he said, "Brother Almond, speak to me of God," and the almond tree blossomed.' Francis: A Life in Songs by Ann Wroe is a book of beautiful poems to celebrate the life of St. Francis. Ann Wroe is a remarkable writer. Her poetry is exceedingly spare, spoken in a voice as light and soft as a feather.

A violet's/flare/in winter grass/alerts the heart/to other service/unregarded,/almost/missed

Recently a friend sent me a card with a photograph of snowdrops. He said that the snowdrops are harbingers of spring and clear blue skies. He asked me to keep looking out for them when I go out for a walk.   

When I returned to the house from my walk, I made a healthy and heart-warming Borlotti beans chicken soup and homemade bread buns, the latter is based on the recipe from Elizabeth David’s book, English Bread and Yeast Cookery.

Borlotti beans chicken soup (Recipe) and homemade bread buns. If you prefer a less spicy soup, you can put less chilli and make sure to cut the chilli in half and then, remove all the seeds inside before you cook them in the soup. 

After we have our lunch, we usually go out for another what Gordon calls “our walks of life”. We will yet again be willingly seduced by the charm of the rugged stones, the shape of a cloud, the windswept sea, the undulating fields and the elongated shadows of the trees when the afternoon light begins to fade.     

When we come back from our walk, we have an afternoon tea. It is the time to write my journal, plan our holidays in my calendar for this year, listen to my favourite records and read our new books.    

‘Under a certain circumstances there are a few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.’ Henry James, the first opening sentence from The Portrait of a Lady.

Gordon found this healthy version of cake recipe for our afternoon tea in the newspaper's magazine. Chocolate black bean cake is delicious. We prefer it without white chocolate drizzle over the cake. 

Winter Tea from MacBeans is my favourite tea for this time of the year. 

We listen to Mary O'Hara's albums while we have our tea. Gordon adores her voice especially the way she sings Hebridean folk songs in Scottish Gaelic at her famous Carnegie Hall concert in 1986. 

Mary O'Hara's voice is angelic and her softly pealing harp is absolutely enchanting. I love her album "Colours". It has never been released on audio CD. But I happen to love her version of The Beatles' song, In My Life, which is on this album. 

As much as I find consolations in nature, the fear of the new strain of virus becomes too palpable lately and it has put all of us in a similar state of anxiety. Meanwhile, nature never lets one down; my nerves have been calmed by the long walks, the fresh, salty sea air and soothed by the continual sight of beauty. I am very thankful for these welcomed distractions which forced me to abandon my anguished introspection and face the practical steps with stoic determination.

The new edition of this classic book of nature writing, A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold, has a beautiful introduction by Barbara Kingsolver. It was published in last year, during the first lockdown, in UK by Oxford University Press. It is my Christmas gift to Gordon.

At Christmas, Gordon gave me a beautiful and signed edition of this photography book titled A Year in the Life of the Duddon Valley by Bill Birkett in memory of our enchanting holiday in the Duddon Valley last year. The book also features the holiday cottage (see image below) where we stayed during our holiday. We are planning to go back to the Lake District later this year to see the Ruskin’s house, Brantwood in Coniston once again.  

Ca’ Canny is a Scottish phrase that the locals in the village say one to another. For example, they would say “Ca’ canny, doon the brae”. Ca’ canny means to take caution, to stay safe, to keep well or to take care. This quintessentially Scottish phrase seems to me the best mantra to keep in times of adversity. So, ca' canny dear ones.