A house made of butter? I’m taking a chance with that title as everyone knows Bardrishaig shown here is brilliant white inside and out.
But – just have patience and we will find out if this colour-blind ijit is right.
Twas one of those days – H woke up with a migraine so we had a slo-ow start. No worries – things did improve and she didn’t need much persuading to come out for some fresh air early afternoon.
First we visited my son’s ‘new-build’ – his beautifully individual self-designed house just a few yards from a sheltered bay here on the Isle of Luing. Progress was being made and we quickly got out of his hair.
Toberonochy was our next port of call where we watched grebe’s and cormorants till they became fed up of performing for an audience of two and went elsewhere. The cue for us to get the camera’s out. Being a dull sort of day overhead and the first sunshine appearing way south around Islay Helen was always going to take the honours where pics are concerned.
Well – what do you expect when her camera is twice the size of mine.
Flotsam n jetsum – need you guess. H was always going to win that one – how do you think she found me for a start —
I crept into this one though – even if it was just to use my hand as an extra holding a rock — and if anyone thinks my ‘lifeline’ is on the short side – keep it to yourself please.
Next stop was Blackmill Bay where there wasn’t much going on but we did come across a few starlings up by the ruined Kilchattan church wondering if they had gathered enough to constitute a murmuration and head home to bed.
We left ’em counting and headed north to a sheltered anchorage where we photographed sheep – of all things. Oh – oh – too slow H – the sheep have disappeared over the hill – have a shot of the bay instead.
Night comes quick here in the Tropics of Lorn and by the time we had completed our five and a bit point turn on the single track road the sun had followed the sheep over the horizon.
But it did let H snatch an artistic shot of the field gate as we bumped up our hill.
Where I won the honours for a shot at the setting sun through the rowans on our hillock —
With a black Scarba getting into the act over a red sky running it a close second.
The Daleks! Musn’t forget our Daleks who guard our fruit trees from a marauding roe buck. To think when she was a kid – H watched ’em from the back of the sofa – now she has her own at the bottom of the garden.
They have proven an effective deterrent so far and I quite like ’em really.
So — what about the creamy ‘House made of Butter’ —
So nice to come home to – she wins hand’s down any day 🙂