
SMOKE RISING vertically from the chimney pots, not so much as a whisper of breeze to twitch the topmost branches of the tallest trees or shiver the fragile grasses in the hedgerows, and white duvets of mist hanging in the field bottoms. I wish I was talking about a fairytale morning with a frosty nip in the air and a warming sun burning off the mist. (more…)

MY TAUTOLOGY blunder – the Vale of Strathmore – may have run its course. I got a call from a retired farmer at the head of Glenesk who told me that he grew up calling it the Howe of Strathmore, much as we refer to the Howe of the Mearns. (more…)

THE BLACK Isle is one of those off-the-main-track parts of Scotland that I reproach people for racing past in their haste to get somewhere else. The name reflects the rich, fertile land of the peninsula whose shores are washed by the waters of the Cromarty Firth on the north and the Moray Firth to the south. (more…)

OH DEAR, I’ve been getting stick for writing about the Vale of Strathmore (October 22nd). Reproached for falling into the trap of tautology, the unnecessary repetition of the same thing using different words – strath and vale or valley being synonymous. Worse still, I’m guilty of allowing unwelcome Anglicisation to debase guid Scots words – clearly pretty slack behaviour. (more…)

“THE RAIN it raineth every day”, as Will Shakespeare’s clown sings in Twelfth Night. (more…)

WHEN SOMETHING new turns up that I think I should have known about I sometimes wonder what I’ve done with my life. (more…)

COUNTRYSIDE SOUNDS are often as big a giveaway of what’s going on round about you as actually seeing. There are the obvious examples of birdsong and identifying the singer, or the sound of livestock warning me to keep Inka in about. A fox’s sharp bark when we’re out last thing at night or a roe buck’s rasping cough are less familiar but tell me what’s on the move. (more…)

TALKING TO an experienced countryman, he reckoned we’ve lost a fortnight of the autumn weather – winter has come early. The thought was reinforced by son Robert who e-mailed a photo taken on Thursday morning outside his office at Ardverikie of the snow-covered peak of Carn Dubh. I’ve been checking out the winter woollies and the long johns to see what damage the family moth has inflicted since I tidied them away into the bottom drawer last spring. (more…)

‘Katie Beardie had a coo / A’ black about the moo / Wasna yon a denty coo? / Dance, Katie Beardie.’
WHO WAS Katie Beardie? – the question was asked by a member of Montrose Probus Club at the end of a talk I had just given. There was a familiarity about the quotation which took me back to primary school days but I’d no idea why the lady is celebrated in a playground jingle. (more…)

BUMBLEBEE SQUARE sounds as though it’s been part of Comrie’s streetmap for generations. The reality is that it’s a community garden and focal point for the village created only a year ago from an empty building site. (more…)