Some more Scottish reflections

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I was very excited when I heard on the news that the UK was having a heatwave just days before I was due to visit. The last time I was home was January, so I was looking forward to seeing greenery and flowers and sunshine.

I enjoyed the glorious heat and light and Vitamin D for a day, and then headed off to Scotland. Remember when I told you all about how Africa is hot? Well, some more breaking news just in: Scotland’s kinda cold. I optimistically packed t-shirts and flip-flops, and regretted the decision immediately after crossing the border. The wind and rain is less brutal than usual, and the landscape which is wild, bleak and rugged in winter seems fresh, alive and colourful in summer - but it's still cold.

The rain and mist cloak everything gently in mystery, often ensuring that you can't see for more than a few metres from the end of your nose, scrunching up your face as the rain drips gently down the neck of your raincoat. The water of the lochs is smooth and surreal like grey silk; tourist boats carve rippling patterns between the banks.

However, when the sun does come out, you realise that every inch of the landscape is carpeted in green, as moss, ferns, grass and trees compete for coverage. Purple foxgloves poke up vibrantly from the foliage, whilst the towering green hillsides pale manmade structures into pathetic insignificance. Narrow roads wind gently through the soft green forests, which are dense and cool and inviting.

Scotland's mountains, forests and lochs are beautifully calming, but so is the feeling of warm sunshine on my skin, unlike lashing rain and bone-chilling wind. Whilst the scenery, tranquility and beautiful buildings makes my heart ache to live on the Scottish coast, I’m just not sure I could cope with the weather.

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Photos

Foyers Falls
Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds.
As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below,
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
And viewles Echo's ear, astonished, rends.
Dim-seen, through rising mists and ceaseless show'rs,
The hoary cavern, wide surrounding lours:
Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils,
And still, below, the horrid cauldron boils.