RE(A)D AS A SEASONAL POINTER
The summer slipped away last month, with no apology for brevity and intensity, and suddenly the autumn equinox was upon us.
It was the day I drove to Aberfeldy, for a shiatsu with Netherlands-born Anneke who has the most wondrously sensitive healing hands (http://www.hielanhands.co.uk/therapist.php?show=14). It was also the day after Day 1 of my writing course, so I was both tired and inspired: I love the work, and this time especially interesting as an equal number of men and women and, in the main, slightly older than usual.
Add to this fact that it was the most beautiful day – clear and sunny, bright and breezy – and to say I felt high after the treatment (as in an uplifted altered state kind of way) is an understatement.
Before leaving home, I had taken a few photographs around the house: colour-changing leaves, ripening berries, blushing fruit. Also one of something – a pot stand – hanging in our kitchen, which is what no doubt inspired the rest of the day…
My grandmother Irene’s favourite clock. For decades time stood still. When passed to me, I found a key through a friend whose husband tinkered in his spare time, and now rewind it every 24 hours for perfect timekeeping.
Trees planted four years ago are now bearing fruit
Transitioning – falling leaves
Hedgerows laced with rosehips
Later, taking back roads to avoid traffic and the dreaded A9, I found myself stopping and starting, stopping and starting, drawn by an endless range of hues, tints and shades..
A fallen gate with its own story
In the community owned store in Strathtay, the volunteer on duty told me that when she and her family went on trips to town and country, they always chose a theme to photograph. “It could be concrete, or steps, or triangles, or a colour. It makes us really look and see.”
Enjoy and use this historic postbox while you can. Post offices are closing all over Scotland!
At the back of the shop, brightly painted garage doors with knobs on…
At the front, baskets of apples donated by locals glutted out with fruit. And yes, there were fresh veg inside…
I did, avoiding several young ones scampering from one side of the road to the other. Have their parents taught them nothing?
So many beautiful houses along the route… here Virginia creeper creeps ever onwards. And who is in the tower? Another story here…
In Grantully, a sculptural wild cat keeps an eye on passing traffic…
…while the Highland Chocolatier offers love in every shape and form. Irresistible.
Now of course, on Samhain/All Hallows Eve/Halloween, the landscape is much changed towards winter and warming autumnal shades almost gone.
Only the pot is still red, and a few other things…
(Read more about Sunfield [read the caption below] in my book Chasing Shooting Stars (2013), available on Amazon.com)
I made this in 1948, when I was seven. My parents took my sister and I on a regular basis to the place where I was born: Sunfield, a residential home run according to the principles of Rudolf Steiner, at Clent Grove, near Bromsgrove in Worcestershire. It was as sustainable as possible, with a biodynamic farm, theatre, weaving sheds and a pottery. Why did I choose red? No idea, but maybe to reflect left-wing leanings, even from such an early age… Always concerned with fairness and justice.
