Accidentally walked up a mountain (and other fun stuff)

Our celebrations for Là Fhèill Brìghde are kind of ongoing here, but we've got the major stuff done. The evening itself was pretty low-key, mainly because my back wasn't up to much and Rosie had got back from a sleepover she'd had at a friend's house and was extremely tired (they were up until 1am and then got up in the morning at around 6am, and for a Rosie who likes her sleep that was just too much), but nonetheless I think it was a success.

Luckily we'd already made our dealbh Brìde last weekend, and I'd bought a beeswax candle-making kit so we could make our own candles to light up the house, too. The instructions came with a few suggestions for different styles of candle, and considering the spring theme, we decided on making some flower-shaped ones. Tom made a water-lily, while Rosie made the rest. ALL OF THEM. She was extremely enthused by the project (Tom was still feeling pretty ill at that point so tired out quickly) and I was too busy helping out to make my own, though I might still have a go with what's left over.

For the icons, Rosie and I made one each -- Tom had wandered off by that point -- with a kit I'd bought, and she spent the next few days making more. She gave some to her friends after taking them in to school so we ended up with two to choose from for the evening itself. In the end Tom decided not to bother having a go at making some this time round.

On the evening, with the house all set in order and a takeaway enjoyed for our feast, we lit the candles with a little ceremony, and then I suggested the kids could go and get ready for bed. Rosie was too tired to be doing much, so I made offerings and got things ready while they were changing. The candles were burning quickly and seeing as I had some time (they take forever to get changed...), I decided to take some photos before all of the candles were gone:

The white one at the back replaced another candle Rosie had made, which burned out too quickly to get a picture of.

Once they came back down I asked the kids to pick which icon we were going to use; Rosie immediately decided on the one she'd made, because the bright orange was more apt for the occasion, so I invited her to take it to the door so we could invite Brìde in. I made the call, inviting the kids to repeat after me if they wanted to, and I repeated each line in English so they knew what I was saying. The weren't too sure about joining in, so I suggested that perhaps they wanted to say something in your own words instead. Rosie couldn't think of anything to say, she was just too tired, really. Tom was a little unsure of himself so he checked to make sure that he had the right idea of what all of this was about, and then he stepped up to the threshold and told the night sky that Brìde is lovely. That is all. I agreed, and added my own words, too.

Then we put the icon to bed on our shrine, and I placed the slatag (wand) beside her. Tom got excited and ran around the kitchen zapping stuff to make the green shoots appear while Rosie leaned in for a cuddle. It was well and truly time for bed, so we didn't do too much more together. Usually I'd do a little story telling and stuff like that, but it just wasn't going to end well this time if I tried too much.

The rest of the evening was pretty quiet. I took some time to make my own devotions before I went to bed, and left some food and drink out for refreshment. Just before I went to bed I put some items out for blessing -- one for each of us, and a towel I use for the animals.

The next morning I got up to find some of the food I'd left out overnight -- well out of the way of sticky fingers or snuffling noses -- had gone, so I'm taking that as a positive sign that we were visited. It was a beautifully bright and sunny day (winter will be with us a while longer, it seems) so I decided the dogs could do with a good long walk. I was going to go to our new favourite spot by the waterfall, but after I got some offerings ready to take with me and I set off I decided to maybe make an adventure of it, so I headed towards the woods where the waterfall is, but kept going up alongside it. We passed some sheep, who I'm guessing are quite heavily pregnant by now:

No lambs yet, though.

I spotted a signpost to a forest (which is news to me), so decided to head that way. Up and up the hill we went, until eventually we got onto a path that took us into a field. There were more sheep there so I kept the dogs on the lead and we kept walking up the hill some more. We've had some snow that's only melted a little -- it's mostly frosted over, really -- so as we got higher up we encountered more and more snow. The forest didn't seem exactly... foresty. So we explored a bit before turning back to take the path to the forest itself, through another gate. There wasn't going to be any livestock here so I let the dogs off and we went along the wide path that cuts through the forest. There are dense bits:

And then heavily deforested bits that give a good view of the area.

And on we went, higher and higher. I'll just see what's around this corner here, I kept thinking, as we went up and up, until soon enough we were right at the top. I couldn't really say if it's an actual mountain, but if it isn't then it must be close. Not quite intended though it might have been, it seemed apt in a way, considering Brìde's name may mean something like "High (Exalted) One." We went pretty high up indeed...

In spite of the frost and snow, there are signs of spring around. Before it snowed the dandelions were starting to wake up around the village, and up on the trail we took there was a lone daisy smiling out at us:

Eventually I decided it was time to turn back seeing as I had no idea where we were going. I left offerings in a few spots on our way back down, and we'd been out so long that it was turning to dusk now so I didn't linger. As we got back to the field the moon had just started peeking out over the hills:

I'd intended to make some crosses with the kids when I got home -- we hadn't managed it the day before because Rosie had been so tired -- but it was a much longer walk than I'd anticipated and I needed a good sit down once I got home. By the time dinner and everything else was done after that, it was too late to be doing much, so for now I've made some myself, and I'll see if the kids want to make some later.

At Midsummer I realised that I had rushes growing out the front of the house, which I used as part of our paying the rents then. They're also perfect for making a cros Bríde, though I don't usually make them like this (lollipop sticks and wool are my go-to materials of choice). But seeing as we have them handy I decided to have a go at making one of the more iconic crosses, like the one I brought back from our trip to Ireland last July. I'd tried making ones like this before out of other kinds of material and I'd found it difficult, so I was anticipating that it might not go so well. As it turned out, it was way less fiddly than I thought it would be:

Although still a bit fiddly, for the tying off, especially (I used the slideshow I linked to in my last post as a guide but didn't have elastic bands as suggested there). But still, it came out OK so I decided to try a three-armed 'triskele' version as well:

I haven't seen any instructions for how to make them but I figured it would be about the same method as the four-armed version, except you'd bend the first rush in half instead of keeping it straight. Things started off a little messily but it came together a little better as I added more rushes and the cross became a bit sturdier.

There are I some things I wanted to do as part of our celebrations but wasn't able to -- there was no double cream at the shops so we couldn't make our own butter, for one -- but I might make a week of it and stretch things out a little so we could do that later.

I'd like to get back into the garden again this year but we'll see how it goes. As the spring wears on I'm going to try and plant some veg, at least, but for now there's going to be a bit of a respite until the ground defrosts... Either way, Brìde is here. And Brìde is most definitely welcome.

In which I left the house and Did Stuff

All last week I had some friends visiting, much to my excitement because it meant I got to Do Stuff With Grown Ups. Mr Seren graciously (in his own special way, i.e. with much good-natured whinging and moaning) took charge of the kids while I went off gallivanting around Scotland and all kinds of fun stuff. I finally got around to going to visit Paisley Abbey and spied the xenomorph carving:

Which was pretty high up so the picture is grainy because it's so closely cropped; I first learned about the xenomorph from some links that went viral a while ago and the abbey went on to my list of places to see and then I promptly forgot about it. But seeing as we were going to be nearby, at the museum, and had an hour to kill before that opened, the abbey was a good opportunity. There were some beautiful stained glass windows there as well (and a very talkative warden).

I'll start with our trip to Luss in Loch Lomond, though, and given the amount of pictures I took I'll probably spill over into a couple of posts after this. Loch Lomond was our first big day out (involving lunch and cake, naturally). I've been there many times now, but this time I had the chance to wander around a bit more and we visited the village church as well. The village itself is very picturesque (here's some I took from a previous visit, when it was sunny):

The church is really unusual, with the pulpit and font situated in the middle so everyone sits around it and can face each other. It's also beautifully done inside, but I didn't take too many pictures because the warden (or whoever he was) was very obliging in giving us a history and I didn't want to appear rude while he was talking. The font was originally removed sometime after the Reformation and buried under a cairn of stones not too far away, to protect it from being destroyed. It was eventually replaced after being discovered by soldiers, who brought it back to the church (which had been rebuilt by then). I didn't take a photo of it, but I did get a picture of the statue of St Kessog:

Who seems like a cheery fellow. He's said to have brought Christianity to the area over 1500 years ago, and according to the Wikipedia link he used to be the patron saint of Scotland before St Andrew took over; his name was also used as a battle cry. There's a wee trail behind the church that goes into the history, which starts off with a beautifully carved cross that spells out "coexist," which is a nice touch. And there are some beautiful views of the hills, that are still covered in bluebells at the moment:

You can kind of see the Celtic cross there as well. There are memorial trees planted all around the edges of the field and the guy we spoke to inside the church said they plant a fruit tree for each Christening they do, so they have an orchard as well, which is a nice touch. Some of memorials were for kids, which is just heartbreaking to see, with the teddy bears and kids' toys at the base of the trunk.

Back in the churchyard there's a Viking hogback - about tenth century in date, I think - lurking amongst the more recent gravestones:

They don't tend to have inscriptions so I'm not sure who it's for, and it seemed smaller than the ones I saw at Govan last year. I don't think I've ever seen one in situ before so maybe it just seemed wee by comparison, but I think it's sunk a bit and weathered a lot, going by the Canmore records.

Down at the shore there are some views of Ben Lomond, which marks the start of the Highland line:

And there's also a nice wee shop by the pier, with possibly the most talkative proprietor EVAR. Enter if ye dare... The shortbread's nice but you might never leave.

The next day we did Bute by car, so we got to see more than just the usual. In spite of the weather, which was a little changeable, it was a fab day, but I'll leave that for the next post. Or possibly two, because I kind of went to town with the camera that day.

My eyes!

Winter is happily settled in now, and it's feeling moody and dramatic:

But also mostly calm. Lots of frost and ice, a little snow now and then (a flurry on Friday but it didn't settle), but otherwise compared to last year and the many storms that came our way, things have been quiet. Given the frost and ice I've not been out around the village as much as I'd like but the kids and I have had a few trips out and about at the weekends at least.

This weekend, however, the kids were at their grandparents so my mother-in-law could take them to a sing-a-long pantomime sort of thing ('tis the season), and so I could get stuck in to redecorating their bedroom as an early Christmas present. My son, now seven, has decided that he's too old for decor like this:

Which is what I did for them when we first moved in here and they were both considerably younger. The decor has certainly seen better days now and some of the stickers have taken off a chunks of the paint so it's as good a time as any to try and fix it; Tom, being a Big Boy now, has asked for bunk beds for Christmas (just like his cousin), and seeing as he will probably stay in this room when it's time for the kids to have their own space, we decided that he should have first dibs on the colour scheme. His first choice was an airport theme, replete with runway and two planes crashing in mid air and the beginnings of a fire ball emerging from said crash. While imaginative, that got vetoed in short order. Oddly. So did Rosie's desire for pirates and mermaids (I'm flattered by their faith in my artistic abilities, but aside from the amount of paint that would be needed...no. And in spite of Tom's assurances that there were no serious injuries, plane crashes are an immediate no).

In the end, they were given a choice of two colours, to be agreed on by them both, and I can only describe them as closely akin to "Communist Red" and "Veering Towards Mustard." It's vibrant, you might say:

Although the terrible lighting in this picture doesn't quite do the colours justice (I wanted to take a picture for posterity, before the kids took over; I figured it would never be as clean or tidy once they took up residence once again). Thankfully the yellow has mellowed now it's had a chance to dry.

So as with anything else, I've approached the decorating with a spiritual bent. "Sunwise for everything" goes the saying, so the paint goes on around the room in the appropriate direction, as does the ceremonial hoovering and cleaning of the carpet. Seeing as I had to strip the whole room bare I had to remove their rowan charm temporarily (it goes nicely with the new decor, eh?):

So that went back up with some words, once everything was ready to go back in. I ran out of time at the weekend but at some point I'll probably sain the room with some silvered water too - maybe after Christmas when the kids get a few final bits and pieces to finish the room off and it's all done and final. Aside from muscles that haven't been used in a good long while complaining loudly, my back held up admirably with all of the prepping and sanding, base-coat and then paint that was needed. But just now it would like me to sit down for a bit, thanks. Putting the laundry away's OK, though.

Before the kids went away we made a fat cake for the birds - just suet and bird seed mixed together:

With added cow bell

Which has now been put up in the garden as an offering from us, as part of my new moon rite - the last one of the year. They both helped to make it but only Rosie wanted to come out with me to put it up, so after the fat cake had been put in place and just as the new moon obligingly peeked out through the clouds, I encouraged her to make say hello and make a wish if she wanted to. She did (we both did, together), and then almost immediately she shouted excitedly, "My wish came true!" So I asked her what it was, and she said she just wanted the clouds to lift so she could see the stars up above. Sure enough, a clear patch had appeared right above us.

While I was decorating there were lots and lots of birds hanging around noisily outside - they're not shy in letting you know when you're slacking in the bird food department - so it seems doubly apt to put something out for them to finish off my sprucing up. The weather forecast seems to suggest that it's going to be a cold winter so I like to make sure they're fed, and as I see them as messengers it's only appropriate to look after them too. The cow shape (from a silicone jelly/cake mould) was Rosie's choice, and as cows are very Celtic it only seems apt. Rosie's always a good barometer for Appropriate Choices like this.

Decorating and getting the house in order is very traditional at this time of year - sprucing things up for the New Year (start as you mean to go on) - so it's a good opportunity to do a few things around the house to make sure everything is in its place. It always seems to me at this time of year that everyone is busy concentrating on Christmas so normal life goes out of the window; everything else gets put on hold until the Hogmanay hangover has been dealt with, so in this liminal sort of timeframe it feels like it's a good time to think about seeing out the old year and preparing for the new. It's a little earlier than I usually start but seeing as the kids will be finishing school at the end of the week it makes sense to get a head start while they're not around as much.

For many different reasons I'll be glad to see the back of this year so I'm keen to start the new year on the right sort of footing, and a little extra effort in that respect wouldn't go amiss. It's also one of those times where I'm feeling reflective, and while I'm looking forward to the new year, I've been thinking a lot about all of the things I can be thankful for from this year. In spite of all of the not so good things that might happen, I always try to think of all the good things that have happened, too. One of the biggest things I'm thankful for is this family I've found myself a part of - my husband's family, which is one of the main reasons we moved here to this part of Scotland: For the sake of giving the kids the kind of life and support we've wanted to give them. The in-laws have been a huge support throughout all of my back problems and the things that life has thrown at us this year, and though I've married in to the family they've always made me feel like I'm welcome and one of them. My mother-in-law had a minor stroke earlier this year - she's recovered well, thankfully - and it's one of those things that makes you think about what people mean to you, I suppose. With the next generation on the way next year (I'm going to be a great aunt, if all goes well), it will continue to be an important theme, I think - not just the kids, but everyone - especially now that Rosie in particular is becoming increasingly keen to involve herself in my practices.

For now, though, it's time for a good clean and tidy, and fixing up a few things here and there. Once I've had a wee rest...

To Rothesay

Yesterday the weather finally decided not to suck, hurrah! So in celebration, and for the sake of something to do with the kids while they're on their summer holidays, I decided it was time to take a trip over to Bute. For once, I figured, we might enjoy it while the whether wasn't dull and dour (and it was a good excuse to keep the kids out of the way while a very nice man put a new fence in, courtesy of our very generous neighbours who wanted to dog-proof their garden for their new puppy).

Armed with a plethora of food and a flask of coffee for a picnic by the sea, the kids and I went down to the ferry just in time for the midday sailing. We went up to the top deck and enjoyed the sunshine and breezes, while the kids looked out into the sea to see what they could see:

That's the view of the side of the river I live on. Out to sea, on a good day, you can just make out the Ailsa Craig, where the special granite used for curling stones come from (my mother-in-law is a keen...curler?...herself). It's currently up for sale, if you have a spare million and then some lying around.

We were given a warm welcome with a young lady playing the bagpipes (and she was actually good!) and bilingual signage:

Which I don't remember seeing before. It wasn't the only Gàidhlig signage so it's heartening to see the council taking the language more seriously. And talking of signage:

We took a short walk from the ferry so we could officially have lunch in the Highlands, before going down on to the beach in search of treasure. The while we had lunch...well...it wasn't bad:

And then, once Rosie had her nice collection of sea glass, Tom had secured the beach from Decepticons (apparently), and I'd made some offerings, we went off to Rothesay Castle. I took some pictures of the outside last year when a friend and I had a day trip there (in considerably murkier weather), but it's amazing the difference a bit of sunshine makes to a place. Tom was particularly impressed by the canon outside the castle, which is conveniently aimed at where the curtain wall is damaged:

He ended up getting himself a canon pencil sharpener from the gift shop on our way out, which is currently being used to demolish a Lego castle to devastating effect. Near the canon were some baby swans, with mum and dad:

Mum and dad weren't too keen on all the attention the adolescent swans were getting, so I was glad there was a wall in the way, for sure. Having been mugged by a swan some years ago in Linlithgow, I know first hand that they can be quite terrifying buggers even when they don't have offspring to be looking after and they're just after the bread they know is in that bag there...

The castle itself is in a very ruined state and there's not much that can be climbed up at the moment - they're doing a lot of work on it. The gatehouse survives in fairly good condition and the first time I visited, some years ago now, the great hall there was being prepared for a wedding. It's a very grand setting.

The main part of castle itself is roughly circular, and originally had four round towers at each corner. Only two of the towers are still in much of a shape:

One of them was used for keeping pigeons as well:

Inside the curtain wall were several buildings, but only the chapel survives substantially:

After we'd left we had a bit of time to kill before the next ferry home so we took a stroll around the town and visited a few shops. The town itself has certainly seen better days and it has a very shabby sort of splendour to it. The lampposts are great, though:

Returning to the subject of signage, however, I can't help but feel that this one is sending something of a conflicting message:

My mother will be coming to visit at the end of the month and wants to take the ferry over for a visit, to go and see the Mount Stuart estate as my friend and I did last October. I do hope the weather will be as nice as it was yesterday. We might end up taking the tour bus so we can see a bit more of the island as well - taking the car over is expensive but the island is beautiful and well worth exploring. Hopefully I'll have some good pictures then, too.

Now with added otter

This post has nothing to do with anything, aside from the fact that my daughter's nursery class had their end of term school trip to the Sealife centre at Loch Lomond today. Much as I didn't enjoy being stuck on a cramped coach for an hour there and then back again (with an extremely grumpy child), all I can say is, OTTERS.

Unfortunately the pictures aren't great because there was glass in the way, but:

And:

Oh, and FISH:

Trout:

Rays:

Seahorses:

Not sure about this one:

Moray eel:

All here:

Newark Castle - a day out

Try again, shall we? Blogger ate the first attempt...

It was a busy weekend and then somelast week, with an old friend coming to stay with us for a wee holiday. Naturally, playing the goood host I had to figure out a few things that we could do that would keep us entertained, and as it happened this mostly involved me failing at public transport (although to be fair, it mostly failed me), and getting slightly tipsy in places in and around Glasgow, which was fun for us, but maybe not so fun to describe here.

One of our better successes was a trip to Newark Castle in Port Glasgow - not too much of a trek for me or my knackered back. In the three years that I've lived in this part of Scotland I've never got round to visiting it, although I've wanted to. It's a castle tucked away next to some imposing shipyards - what's left of them now - and the main road for the west coast of Scotland south of Glasgow. Blink and you'll miss it, as you drive past.

It doesn't look like much from the front at the moment, considering the fact that it's all covered in scaffolding, so here's the back view:

(And so begins my best tour guide impression). It started off life in the fifteenth century as your typical tower house, surrounded by a defensive wall with corner towers that were used as lookouts. The wall was removed in the sixteenth century by the towerhouse's most famous occupant, Patrick Maxwell. He was a nice man. Or not. When he wasn't busy soldiering, he was busy killing his neighbours, friends, being generally unpleasant, and at one point locking his wife away for six months. Even his mother complained to the authorities about him at one point (the complaint didn't get very far, though - being best mates with King James VI probably came in handy there).

Patrick's wife eventually managed to escape her lovely husband after 44 years of marriage and bearing sixteen children. She ended her days in poverty, so not exactly the happy ending but probably an improvement with how it could have ended with ole Paddy. As I said, a nice guy, Patrick. Or not.

Anyway, from this angle, you can see just how close the remaining shipyards are to the castle:

And just how marvellous the weather was that day. The odd-looking tower to the right is all that remains of the original defensive wall that surrounded the tower. Here's a better view:

Which was eventually turned into a dovecot (or doocot, as it's called in Scots). Seeing as my friend and I were the only people there at the time, the castle steward was very forthcoming about everything, and opened the doocot for us so we could take a look inside:

Normally it's locked to the public, because there's still the opening for the original toilet - that the guards would have used as they stood lookout, I guess - and there's always some clever sod who has to try it out...You can go inside on request. Although in our case, the steward was more than happy to offer. What with the weather, we were probably going to be the only visitors that morning, at least. And no wonder:

That's a view from the battlements at the top of the tower; the lumpy horizon in the photo, that meets the clouds, are the houses at the top of the hill that surrounds Port Glasgow. The black cloud moved sloooowly, but it pretty much says DOOM.

The building is remarkably well-preserved, even if there are some major works under way at the moment. There are the obligatory spiral staircases (which my friend navigated with some trepidation, she's not keen on them):

Odd nooks and crannies:

Floor supports, no longer in use:

And outside, the opportunity for some mood shots:

Where that tree is, and further up river, there used to be more shipyards that crowded around the castle - since the decline of the industry, the derelict buildings have since been removed and the area returned to grass and woodland (and road). It used to be the other way round at one point, though - at the turn of the last century, with no occupant looking after the castle it fell into disrepair and was threatened with demolition to make way for more industry. It was eventually taken into state care in 1909 and preserved.

In the old days, ships couldn't get much further up river than this, and so Port Glasgow grew up on the old lands of Newark Castle to accommodate the imports and exports to and from Glasgow - tobacco, cotton, rum, sugar. Books never really mention slaves, but I've heard rumblings locally - one of those things everybody knows, that slaves passed through here.

The shipyards were the mainstay of Port Glasgow's industry, and before the days of metal ships, there was a need for wood, of course; from the eighteenth century onwards, this was often brought up the river in specially adapted ships with hatches in the side, that could release the timber into the water when they reached their destination. The timber was then left in timber ponds near the shore, where the wood was kept in the water to season it until it was needed. What's left of the timber ponds can still be seen poking up out of the river:

Just - you'll see it better if you enlarge the photo. The ponds started to fall out of use with the advent of iron ships, and the dredging of the Clyde up to Glasgow. Once ships had direct access to the city, Port Glasgow began its inevitable decline in the industry it was famed for.

A slightly different view up river:

And you can just about see Dumbarton Rock on the opposite shore - Alt Clut, the main hillfort of the Britons of Strat Clut (Strathclyde). A little further along from the timber ponds, on the Port Glasgow side of the shore, are the remains of a couple of crannogs - probably Iron Age, but possibly early medieval, and probably related to the activity over at Dumbarton Rock. You can just about make out the outline of them at very low tide, the mounds that are the remains of the islands the crannogs were situated on.

So that's about it. My tour guiding has officially run out of steam. I think in my first entry I did for this, that got eaten, I made a little housekeeping note - I'm trying to get back into writing again, after a long hiatus thanks to the ongoing back problems I've had (am having), but in the meantime I've been on and on at my husband and resident webtroll that the Tairis website has been frustratingly slow and unstable. Magic and all sorts of web wizardry have since happened and the site is now on a brand spanking new host and server (or different ones, anyway) and so far it's been running a lot better. Hopefully it will stay that way.