Why, I'm practically famous

It's all terribly exciting. I have done my very first guest post on another blog. The dashing Melissa at Smitten by Britain is featuring my article about the Lone Piper at the Royal Edinburgh Tattoo.

I have longed admired Melissa's site so it feels wonderful that she is hosting one of my little ramblings. You can read my guest post here.

Look at me, jet-setting around the blogosphere. Next thing you know I'll be doing other posh things like going to Paris for the weekend. Actually, I fly on Friday. Like I said - it's all terribly exciting.

Lambing season in the Scottish Borders

Drive through the Scottish Borders this month and you will pass dozens of fields in which new lambs are jumping, running, butting heads with their siblings and endlessly torturing their mothers in their quest for more milk.

Even with a zoom lens, it took a lot of patience to get these photos. It’s not just a matter of wandering past a field and pointing the camera at the first lamb you see. The distrust that flows from the eyes of the ewes as they lead their little ones away is humbling.

I stood for a long time on the other side of the wall near two ewes and their lambs, quietly watching and waiting for them to feel comfortable enough to continue feeding. If I moved suddenly it startled them and off they would run. I trained my camera on one lamb who seemed to want to nibble on just about anything. This included her mother's horns and later a stick, which she gnawed on for several minutes.

After some time I wandered down the field and was very lucky to get a photo of a lamb resting in the sun beside a stream. I love the way her little ears have flopped down as she sleeps.

The best moment came when I was leaving Kirklands Farm (as I later learned it was called). As I approached a bend in the track, I noticed a lamb that had gotten through the gate and was now separated from his mother. I needed to walk past to leave but every step I took made him panic and try to hurl himself through the bars of the gate, to no avail.

Just then the farmer drove up on his ATV, from the side of which he pulled a long shepherd’s staff. That was how I met Mr. Clark, a farmer with decades of experience and for whom the rescuing of one small lamb is just a blip in another long day. He was kind enough to let me take his photo before lifting the lamb towards me and asking if I wanted to "give him a cuddle.”

So I did, massaging my fingers in the fleecy coat and, at Mr. Clark’s urging, smelling it to see if he still retained his “new lamb” scent. Unfortunately it did not - Mr. Clark said this lamb was a little too old and already smelled like the other sheep. Which means it is still on my list to find out what exactly a newborn lamb smells like.

With some regret I handed the soft bundle back to Mr. Clark, who popped him over the fence. We watched him he run to his mother and stand next to her, immediately calmed. Tragedy averted.

It would be sad to let an entire Scottish spring pass by, without making the effort to get out to a farm and see and hear the lambs. Spending time watching their playfulness and innocence can put life's priorities in a new perspective.

Now off you run.

(I forgot to add, today marks the one year anniversary of this blog. WooHoo!)

A walk in the hills around Innerleithen

I considered naming this post “I love the number 62 bus,” but thought it might be confusing. It’s true - I do love the number 62 bus, because it gives car-less Edinburgh dwellers like me access to the vast beauty of the Scottish borders. Why, if I wanted to I could take the 62 from Edinburgh all the way to Melrose to see the famous Melrose Abbey.

I didn’t go to Melrose this time, as I had things to see and appointments to keep in Innerleithen in Peeblesshire. Innerleithen spent many years as a thriving textile and spa town, with people travelling great distances to “take the waters” at St. Ronan’s Well. The well still exists however the museum hours are restricted on weekends (open from 2-5) and I wasn’t able to stop in for a sample.

I wandered the high street, then turned to look at the striking parish church before heading up the hill beside the well. Looking at the hills surrounding the town, I was determined to get up high enough in order to enjoy the views and bask in the spring sunshine.

And hike I did. Past a moss-covered stone wall and up until I could see down into the valley over to nearby Galashiels.

I can only imagine what I looked like, red-faced from the exertion and open-mouthed in awe, as every corner or crest of a hill inched back the blinds on a vast panorama.

Snaking stone walls divided the fields, making the world below look like a fantastical jigsaw puzzle. Along one wall were groups of daffodils, strong and bright as they opened wide towards the sun and were blanketed by the warmth of the stones behind them.

The higher I walked, the more the sounds of the human world fell away. Birdsong circled the hills around me, while the bleats of sheep floated up from the farms below. High above, air traffic moved soundlessly, leaving criss-crossing jet streams in the almost cloudless sky. Twice I looked up to see the Scottish Saltire glowing down on me like a sacred emblem.

In all I hiked for about two hours until I got to the foot of this rocky monstrosity:

Time was not on my side, and seeing that there were lambs in the field below me I decided to head straight down the steep hill towards them. Twenty minutes of slow thumping down the hill made my legs turn to rubber and my knees ache.

The good news is I did find some lambs to photograph, but that will have to wait for the next post.

Want to see where I was? Click on the photo below to make it bigger and I shall wave to you.

Innerleithen is known for being one of the best areas in Scotland for cycling, but it’s also an unforgettable place for a stroll and well worth a visit if you’re looking for somewhere that is accessible but still offers that feeling of being away from it all.

So now that we’ve done the hard work, we can just have a seat and relax:

In the spotlight

Welcome to Friday, which is especially grand because today I'm the "reader in the spotlight" on Edinburgh Spotlight.

This calls for a celebratory photo of Edinburgh's Holyrood Park in the spring:

The ruins are of St. Anthony's Chapel, which stands high on the hill above St. Margaret's Loch. Built in the 1400s, it fell into disrepair by the 1560s.

I'm off to the Scottish Borders tomorrow and Traquair House to do some reasearch on their varieties of ale. I shall report back, of course.