On first sighting of a new moon, my deeply superstitious mother used to make us bow to it seven times, but there never seemed to be any similar requirement for what is almost certainly the last appearance of an old moon. Today's rose through bands of cloud to the southeast of us only to be....
....absorbed into a swirling sunrise, which gave due warning with its gaudy reds and burnt oranges of....
....a blustery day to come. We're forecast for two days of this, a southeasterly force six or so with gusts up to gale force, quite enough to ensure that, other than our
Raasay, there were no ferries passing in the Sound of Mull.
The ridge at the back of Ormsaigbeg is an exhilarating place to walk on such a day, at moments almost blown off one's feet, at others in shelter. I love this walk, alone on the hill to wander amongst the remains of the works of long-forgotten people, like this very substantial wall half way up the brae which seems to start nowhere and end nowhere.
The only company, if it can be called it that, was half a dozen blackface sheet disgruntled at being disturbed.
I couldn't linger as there were important things to be done at home, with a priority given to....
....building a shelter for the peanut machine to protect it from the wind and, because it still seemed to shift around in the eddying gusts, adding pieces of lead to its legs.
It hadn't been out a few minutes before, when my back was turned, one of the peanuts disappeared, and....
....a blue tit continued to show interest, watched by a robin. I sat for some time sipping a hot drink and hoping for a picture but....
....there are another six peanut feeders in the front garden which are much easier to access, so whichever bird is working Derryck's machine is doing it for fun rather than from hunger.
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