A Homecoming

The Diary has been away in western Canada for a couple of weeks, travelling around the vastness of that magnificent country, the wide-open spaces of southern Alberta in such contrast to the hills we've come home to.

A rather grey return, with hardly a breath of wind to stir the waters of the Sound of Mull, in sharp contrast to Alberta, where a late spring has seen heavy snow alternating with brilliant sunshine. The route we followed in our Boeing 767 yesterday took us directly over Ardnamurchan but, although we had glimpses of beaches and hills, we couldn't pick out details of the peninsula.

The immediately visible changes here are that the may is just coming into bloom, and the grass is so much greener than when we left. Our first action, almost as soon as the car came to a halt, was to ask what had happened in our absence. "Nothing." we were assured. "Nothing of interest." But a little time, a few conversations down the road, a couple of probing questions, and we soon began to winkle out some tidbits of information.

For example, there's been an unexpected population explosion amongst the sheep at the eastern end of Ormsaigbeg. These ladies weren't supposed to lamb until next week but, for the second year running, a certain tup has obviously managed to jump the fences from the neighbouring croft. Fortunately, the results, two sets of twins, a set of triplets and a single, haven't displeased the owners, but the proprietor of the tup needs to fit him with a ball and chain next autumn.

Many thanks to Rachael for keeping the Diary going in my absence.