Haud yer wheesht and get oan wae it

Now its not often than I'm dour'r than a stick of rhubarb, but I've had to give myself a wee shake today after yesterday's girning. (Or as they say in Orkney, 'pleeping' (used to express an ability to moan excessively)). Near my wee cottage is a rather fine pier, I'd a mind to jump off it and let the cold water give me a blast of common sense. Fear not the water, whilst icy, is not deep. As you can see from the view a few seconds from the door, I'm very lucky and life's actually rather fine. You see its the weather, it does get to me.  But, today as it does sometimes do, the sun came out and spirits cheered. Even I'm sick of my moaning, so a good shake was given and whilst I was at it I had a stern word too.

I've a lot to be happy about, even if I'm piled high in fleecy attire. For instance - last weekend I retrieved the manchild from university so enroute I managed to meet up with a rather lovely chum for a rather lovely walk, in a rather special forest. I assure you she did indeed walk but as she's getting her garden ready for an open day this coming weekend, she was, tis fair to say, a bit tired. But, as always a great inspiration of positivity and drive in our lives. 

And, as for the returning manchild, well he's now held firmly hostage at home. He's enjoyed his first year immensely, which is just great to hear. Well done Jambon.

I've managed to finally meet another really inspiring gardener up here in Orkney who's efforts (with ingenuity, hard work and building shelter) has made some seriously amazing gardens here and even, if you can imagine it, created a park. (A park, I nearly had to lie down) But, folks with a keen appreciation of plants are always fine to blether too, you learn so much from their knowledge its a joy to talk to them.

Much excitement when my day job and 'tother' job nicely merged into one for a Rhubarb workshop, which had me researching this amazing plant into the wee small hours. I tell you, tis indeed most interesting and grows like a tree here, so quite nice to talk about something which thrives in this climate, come wind, rain, hail or shine.

And we also managed to taste a lot of very fine fodder made from this delightful gargantuan vegetable. In many ways, I'm learning (at last) to appreciate what I've got around me! So be it rhubarb curry's, salads, cakes, jam's chutneys or cordial - I'm going to embrace its productivity rather than look at its epic growth and wonder what on earth to do with it (aside, build houses?)

And, I've taken the time to talk to my tomatoes, who're making a sterling effort to grow beautifully, so its only fair I let them know. I have two tomato experiments at the moment, my normal windowsill efforts and some in the polytunnel. I've told both parties I'm taking notes on progress. These gorgeous beasts are in the polytunnel at work. Czech Bush and Glacier - the latter of which I'm assured will grow well OUTDOORS in Orkney. Well, I'm not taking any chances so its fishboxed and planted in the tunnels. My cunning plan is thus - if it can actually survive outdoors in Orkney (although I'm sceptical given the gales and the wind burnt strawberries I have) - then it should thrive in the polytunnel. I'm all for things thriving, so I'm happy with its efforts.

I think on balance, despite a few layers of fleece. I've lots to be grateful for, cracking family, bonnie fine friends, great crack and lots of lovely grub about. This is the final year in Orkney, as the family flee their mothers grips, my time on the islands is coming to a close. So I'm going to appreciate every second I'm here with the big skies and standing stones, beaches, rhubarb forests and abundant willow. There's so much to look forward to and so much to do and so much to see.

 

And, so much to plan for - in lots of ways.

 

A cellist to get to university

A new home to find

Perhaps a new job next year

A new garden to hunt down

 

And we'll finally (at last) take a husband, although only part-time for a while, we shouldn't rush such things as I hear they're sometimes tricky to adjust to. (Darling, I've booked the forest.)

 

I think I'd do best to haud me wheesht fir mair than a peedie blink yet and get oan wee it.

 

(I think I'd do best to hold my moans for more than a short while yet and embrace appreciating what I've got.)