One thing about living in the Highlands, is how close you can feel the seasons. Many of our neighbours work hardest all Summer while the roads are busy with tourists. Autumn signals a change of pace - back to shorter days, but also a slower pace of life. After the frenetic pace of the last twenty or so years, we are adjusting to these changes. We find ourselves taking more time. Whereas we spent years getting out of bed on a weekday at silly o clock and dashing off on our bikes to our desk jobs without sharing a word, let alone breakfast, we are now rich with time. Its very low key... we shuffle around in the kitchen in the mornings in companionable silence while we decide the weather's mood. If its fine and breezy, we might sail. If there it is fine with no wind, we may fish or kayak or walk, or if its bad, we do "jobs". I retreat to the studio when I can, and the approaching Autumn means I will be doing this more often. In three weeks the boat comes out of the water, and the studio will get me back properly (unless its a fine day, in which case the mountains need climbing). So we ebb and flow on the seasons and the weather, getting jobs done, or not... all in good time. All this changes you. We are no longer dominated by a weekly schedule; we have neighbours to supper on Monday nights. We take our cues from the seasons and the weather. We are no longer the salmon swimming upstream against the tide. More and more we are drifting downstream, learning to accept where the current takes us.
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So much of global and national backdrop these last few years has been mad, scary... and getting more mad and scary still. I don't suppose its going to get better any time soon. It would be too easy