More Storm Tales
Posted: Sunday, 11 November 2007 |
It seems superfluous to mention the storm, everybody went through it, mine is only one tale of it amongst many. Oh but what the hell...here it is anyways...
We got the calm before it..you know the hush you get? When the wind drops, when the skies keep still and waiting, heavy and dark and ominous. And the temperature rose a little, so you could almost think, what storm warning, are they mad? Not gonna be one...
Then the wind picks up out of nowhere and the windows belly in (for we have big panes you see) and you can barely hear yourself think for the banshee howl of the beast outside that tries to blow, blow, blow your house down...
for it was wolf-like, that storm that`s passed now.
And for myself and my son it was an eventful night.
The garage doors, supposed to be bolted top and bottom, weren`t, and though we struggled to bolt the tops of them, we couldn`t..son was up the stepladder trying crazily to shove the bolt home, I was pushing against the bottom of them but the wind was so damn fierce it felt like pushing against concrete....so we left them be and hoped they held, which, for the most part, they did.
But now I have chicken hutches strewn all over the garden, and bits of wheelbarrows where none were before, and pieces of slate, glass and guttering with the occasional downpipe also strewn across the garden.
I had stood looking out of the window at the height of it....most of my ducks flat out refused to go into the byres..even with the hatch open all the time for them..they just tucked beak under wing and streamlined their bodies into the winds and rode it out.
Except for two. Two very dumb ducks who decided, oh, let`s go for a wonder, might find some grain, y`never know ...and as they fought bravely against the wind, passing in front of me right outside the window, a piece of slate flew off the roof and almost decapitated the lead duck, a drake, who,. having narrowly missed death my mere inches shot like a mad thing into the air and promptly flew backwards because of the winds....
And do ye remember the chickens, yes? The same chickens who insisted on window sill sitting? The same chickens who try to barnstorm their way into me house whenever I open the front door because they share the old caravan with me dog and so think they are dogs and should have doggy privileges?
Well, feeling sorry for them and worried in case we lost the caravan during the storm, I let them spend the night in the porch, because the little burgers won`t go into the byres!
And in the morning, the storm still howling, meself and son goes out to see to the beasts and feed the chickens and hears this peep peep..but we cannot see the source of it....
so thinking it was the cat, who had spent the night being pecked at by the chickens if she so much as moved, we forgot it.
There was a plastic bucket in the porch too, you see....just a normal plastic bucket kept up on top of the old chest freezer I keep my barley in (best for keeping rats out of it you see, and good recycling) and the other hens had knocked it down...and it had landed upside down. So when the son picked it up to right it, out strolled a wee red hen...who`d been trapped under it for gods know how long....tsk...
but she was none the worse for wear..mind you it looked like a fairly good magic trick..."What`s under the bucket kids?" and who would ever guess a wee red chicken?
Should I even mention the power cuts?
We have a small generator. It needs a hefty pull on the rope thingy to get it going. And the power went off..and stayed off...so I says to son, let`s get the genny going and out to the outbuilding we went, during the noisy and dangerous storm...
and would the damn thing start? Oh hell no..not when you need it most, in the pitch black during a force 10 storm..grrrrrr....
it took two hours. But in the end the son got it going, I love my son!
Otherwise we`d have had no power at all for some hours.
So it powered the pc and tv. Fine. Then the power eventually came back on...all praise to the Hydro fellas...I ken fine they work hard...so son goes and unplugs the generator and the cables....
then the power promptly goes off again...
cue much turning the air blue and fumbling about for torches and suchlike...
we had plenty candles and lamps, which was good...
and the old Doric stove to cook on, even better.
And in truth I never mind the utter wildness of such a fierce storm. But I think we`ll see more of them now, and with increasing damaging ferocity...
and there is something comforting about keeping by a warm stove, with low lit lamps, as the storm rages outside and you know nothing can be done until it`s over.
But I do hope my chickens learn to be chickens again. And not think they`re dogs so are owed a place in the house.....
We got the calm before it..you know the hush you get? When the wind drops, when the skies keep still and waiting, heavy and dark and ominous. And the temperature rose a little, so you could almost think, what storm warning, are they mad? Not gonna be one...
Then the wind picks up out of nowhere and the windows belly in (for we have big panes you see) and you can barely hear yourself think for the banshee howl of the beast outside that tries to blow, blow, blow your house down...
for it was wolf-like, that storm that`s passed now.
And for myself and my son it was an eventful night.
The garage doors, supposed to be bolted top and bottom, weren`t, and though we struggled to bolt the tops of them, we couldn`t..son was up the stepladder trying crazily to shove the bolt home, I was pushing against the bottom of them but the wind was so damn fierce it felt like pushing against concrete....so we left them be and hoped they held, which, for the most part, they did.
But now I have chicken hutches strewn all over the garden, and bits of wheelbarrows where none were before, and pieces of slate, glass and guttering with the occasional downpipe also strewn across the garden.
I had stood looking out of the window at the height of it....most of my ducks flat out refused to go into the byres..even with the hatch open all the time for them..they just tucked beak under wing and streamlined their bodies into the winds and rode it out.
Except for two. Two very dumb ducks who decided, oh, let`s go for a wonder, might find some grain, y`never know ...and as they fought bravely against the wind, passing in front of me right outside the window, a piece of slate flew off the roof and almost decapitated the lead duck, a drake, who,. having narrowly missed death my mere inches shot like a mad thing into the air and promptly flew backwards because of the winds....
And do ye remember the chickens, yes? The same chickens who insisted on window sill sitting? The same chickens who try to barnstorm their way into me house whenever I open the front door because they share the old caravan with me dog and so think they are dogs and should have doggy privileges?
Well, feeling sorry for them and worried in case we lost the caravan during the storm, I let them spend the night in the porch, because the little burgers won`t go into the byres!
And in the morning, the storm still howling, meself and son goes out to see to the beasts and feed the chickens and hears this peep peep..but we cannot see the source of it....
so thinking it was the cat, who had spent the night being pecked at by the chickens if she so much as moved, we forgot it.
There was a plastic bucket in the porch too, you see....just a normal plastic bucket kept up on top of the old chest freezer I keep my barley in (best for keeping rats out of it you see, and good recycling) and the other hens had knocked it down...and it had landed upside down. So when the son picked it up to right it, out strolled a wee red hen...who`d been trapped under it for gods know how long....tsk...
but she was none the worse for wear..mind you it looked like a fairly good magic trick..."What`s under the bucket kids?" and who would ever guess a wee red chicken?
Should I even mention the power cuts?
We have a small generator. It needs a hefty pull on the rope thingy to get it going. And the power went off..and stayed off...so I says to son, let`s get the genny going and out to the outbuilding we went, during the noisy and dangerous storm...
and would the damn thing start? Oh hell no..not when you need it most, in the pitch black during a force 10 storm..grrrrrr....
it took two hours. But in the end the son got it going, I love my son!
Otherwise we`d have had no power at all for some hours.
So it powered the pc and tv. Fine. Then the power eventually came back on...all praise to the Hydro fellas...I ken fine they work hard...so son goes and unplugs the generator and the cables....
then the power promptly goes off again...
cue much turning the air blue and fumbling about for torches and suchlike...
we had plenty candles and lamps, which was good...
and the old Doric stove to cook on, even better.
And in truth I never mind the utter wildness of such a fierce storm. But I think we`ll see more of them now, and with increasing damaging ferocity...
and there is something comforting about keeping by a warm stove, with low lit lamps, as the storm rages outside and you know nothing can be done until it`s over.
But I do hope my chickens learn to be chickens again. And not think they`re dogs so are owed a place in the house.....
Posted on Hermit Life at 22:41
Winter Sun
Posted: Friday, 16 November 2007 |
It`s nearly Jul. This word`s said like Yule, for you non heathen lot. :-D
In times gone past, beasts would have been slaughtered this month or last, and salted down in barrels for winter meat, or hung and air or smoke dried.
Fish would be pickled or salted down too. Any wild foods would have been gathered in and somehow, preserved.
No shops then, you see.
And firewood would have to be stocked and stored and kept dry and seasoned for the winter fires.
No central heating, you see.
And the beasts that would be slaughtered might have been the weakly ones, the old ones, the ones folks didn`t think would last the winter, or that didn`t justify the cost of winter fodder.
No costly vets, you see...mind you, was that a bad thing I ask myself?
But sometimes, the very best beast was picked out, and slaughtered, and a portion of it given to old and wild gods who were very much more bloodthirsty then, who demanded the blood price for the safety of the clan throughout winter.
Bit different now, yes?
Because for all poverty still exists, it`s been a long time since we hunkered down cheek by jowl with kin and beasts for warmth, when to go outside would most likely mean death from cold or beast with sharper teeth than we owned.
And it`s been a long time since we had to grow, gather, or hunt and kill and prepare every scrap of food, every mouthful, each precious bite, to see us and our loved ones through lean times when if the harvests had been bad, you`d be watching your children grow thin and hungry, lean and hollow-eyed with want.
Now, though, it`s different. Now the tv is full of ads giving the illusion of plenty...buy this, buy that, get your kids stuff to make them happy, to make them love you more.
Yes, it`s different...not necessarily better, in my view...
When I was a wee lassie, every year my gran would knit me a doll. They were always made from odd scraps of wool, but she knitted them big as I was, so they grew each year. They had woollen braids that I loved to play with, take out and replait. She sewed pretty clothes for them so I always had a change for her.
Out of all the presents, as a child, I got over the years, I loved and looked forward to those dolls most of all. None of the plastic toys or gadgets I got bought from shops could surpass the dolls made my the hands of my own granny.
Things are different now though, and kids place more value on the up to the minute-ness of their gadgetry or the expense of it, or the label on it.
No real value in the gift. And when the next best thing comes out, it gets discarded like trash.
I don`t think there`s many of us would like to return to the days when we had to fight for every winter mouthful, or when gifts came in the form of food or drink or warm clothing, things which would help prolong and enhance life itself.
But I can stand and watch the winter sun, low and pale in the sky, and think that maybe times have gone too far the other way. And that a little hardship might be a good thing for some folks too used to plenty, even if they don`t see what they have as plentiful.
The whole spirit of Jul is an act of defiance agains the things in nature that would rob us of life...cold, hunger, poverty and illness.
A fire lit against the dark springs to life on the darkest day, the solstice, and tables will groan under plenty, and seats are put out for any welcome traveller, and no-one is refused hospitality.
And in the darkest months of the year, humans learn again how to be the brightest things there are.
And the low pale winter sun looks on in approval.
In times gone past, beasts would have been slaughtered this month or last, and salted down in barrels for winter meat, or hung and air or smoke dried.
Fish would be pickled or salted down too. Any wild foods would have been gathered in and somehow, preserved.
No shops then, you see.
And firewood would have to be stocked and stored and kept dry and seasoned for the winter fires.
No central heating, you see.
And the beasts that would be slaughtered might have been the weakly ones, the old ones, the ones folks didn`t think would last the winter, or that didn`t justify the cost of winter fodder.
No costly vets, you see...mind you, was that a bad thing I ask myself?
But sometimes, the very best beast was picked out, and slaughtered, and a portion of it given to old and wild gods who were very much more bloodthirsty then, who demanded the blood price for the safety of the clan throughout winter.
Bit different now, yes?
Because for all poverty still exists, it`s been a long time since we hunkered down cheek by jowl with kin and beasts for warmth, when to go outside would most likely mean death from cold or beast with sharper teeth than we owned.
And it`s been a long time since we had to grow, gather, or hunt and kill and prepare every scrap of food, every mouthful, each precious bite, to see us and our loved ones through lean times when if the harvests had been bad, you`d be watching your children grow thin and hungry, lean and hollow-eyed with want.
Now, though, it`s different. Now the tv is full of ads giving the illusion of plenty...buy this, buy that, get your kids stuff to make them happy, to make them love you more.
Yes, it`s different...not necessarily better, in my view...
When I was a wee lassie, every year my gran would knit me a doll. They were always made from odd scraps of wool, but she knitted them big as I was, so they grew each year. They had woollen braids that I loved to play with, take out and replait. She sewed pretty clothes for them so I always had a change for her.
Out of all the presents, as a child, I got over the years, I loved and looked forward to those dolls most of all. None of the plastic toys or gadgets I got bought from shops could surpass the dolls made my the hands of my own granny.
Things are different now though, and kids place more value on the up to the minute-ness of their gadgetry or the expense of it, or the label on it.
No real value in the gift. And when the next best thing comes out, it gets discarded like trash.
I don`t think there`s many of us would like to return to the days when we had to fight for every winter mouthful, or when gifts came in the form of food or drink or warm clothing, things which would help prolong and enhance life itself.
But I can stand and watch the winter sun, low and pale in the sky, and think that maybe times have gone too far the other way. And that a little hardship might be a good thing for some folks too used to plenty, even if they don`t see what they have as plentiful.
The whole spirit of Jul is an act of defiance agains the things in nature that would rob us of life...cold, hunger, poverty and illness.
A fire lit against the dark springs to life on the darkest day, the solstice, and tables will groan under plenty, and seats are put out for any welcome traveller, and no-one is refused hospitality.
And in the darkest months of the year, humans learn again how to be the brightest things there are.
And the low pale winter sun looks on in approval.
Posted on Hermit Life at 10:24
Moorhens and Geese
Posted: Friday, 23 November 2007 |
I have a family of wild moorhens in the garden. There`s always a bundle of them, every year, and in winter they come in to join in with the geese, hens and ducks as we chuck the barley down for them to eat.
Their numbers increase each year..the first year I noticed them there were around half a dozen...this year, there`s eleven!
The come into the garden from the surrounding fields, and as I`m usually up early I watch their arrival, though it`s getting harder to see with the darker mornings.
Down one side of the garden there`s a stone dyke, a wall for non Scots, which stretches down the track a bit and faces the pond.
And they nest down that way overnight...so that in the morning you can watch them, like roadrunners, dash across the track and in among the iris rushes to get to the water.
Then after their morning ablutions they dash back across the track...and follow the same path each time, as if it`s laid out like any double tracked tarmac road, only invisible to us two-foots...and they follow the curve of the stone dyke and cut through the wire fence and run through the rose hedge, now bare and dry-twigged, into the garden.
So there they are, this family of moorhens, wee black birds with red beaks and struts like hens, in my garden, a couple of feet away from the window, looking up at me when I stand there and give them a wee wave...as y`do..well, as I do...
and they don`t run away now like they did when they first started coming in to steal the barley..
and the geese don`t chase them away any more because I watched this happen one day, you see, and they have their own tactics for dealing with it...
My geese are well organised...there`s the big gander, the boss, like the Godfather of the Mafia he is, and keeps tight control over the other gander and the females.
And they take turns to stand guard, one of them will stay awake whilst the others nap or feed...usually the ones at the bottom of the pecking order do the most guard duty.
So one day they`d chased they moorhens out of the garden away from the grain...they try to do this too with the hens and ducks but just get ignored, you see....they just run just out of reach then sneak back in behind the geese...
but the moorhens got chased off that day, and I watched them hover around just outside the field fence, watching...
and the geese, fed and happy, settled down to sleep, with the one goose standing guard....
except, she didn`t, and dozed off, standing on one leg, head drooping in the sunshine...
so in snuck the moorhens agains, quick and quiet, and set to with the remains of the grain, and the duty goose woke, saw them and dashed toward them to drive them off.
Only they didn`t..they`d obviously been watching the hens and ducks...so dashed just out of her reach, and then as she turned back toward the grain, eating it possessively even though she was full already, they just strutted in close behind her and picked up what she missed.
And since then, they`ve been here every day.
They share the grain of my domestic birds, they share their drinking water, and they even sleep alongside the geese and hens now....
They are comical wee birds and I could spend hours watching them, if I didn`t have to work!
And the geese seem to have become, over time, more tolerant, either that or lazier....
Their numbers increase each year..the first year I noticed them there were around half a dozen...this year, there`s eleven!
The come into the garden from the surrounding fields, and as I`m usually up early I watch their arrival, though it`s getting harder to see with the darker mornings.
Down one side of the garden there`s a stone dyke, a wall for non Scots, which stretches down the track a bit and faces the pond.
And they nest down that way overnight...so that in the morning you can watch them, like roadrunners, dash across the track and in among the iris rushes to get to the water.
Then after their morning ablutions they dash back across the track...and follow the same path each time, as if it`s laid out like any double tracked tarmac road, only invisible to us two-foots...and they follow the curve of the stone dyke and cut through the wire fence and run through the rose hedge, now bare and dry-twigged, into the garden.
So there they are, this family of moorhens, wee black birds with red beaks and struts like hens, in my garden, a couple of feet away from the window, looking up at me when I stand there and give them a wee wave...as y`do..well, as I do...
and they don`t run away now like they did when they first started coming in to steal the barley..
and the geese don`t chase them away any more because I watched this happen one day, you see, and they have their own tactics for dealing with it...
My geese are well organised...there`s the big gander, the boss, like the Godfather of the Mafia he is, and keeps tight control over the other gander and the females.
And they take turns to stand guard, one of them will stay awake whilst the others nap or feed...usually the ones at the bottom of the pecking order do the most guard duty.
So one day they`d chased they moorhens out of the garden away from the grain...they try to do this too with the hens and ducks but just get ignored, you see....they just run just out of reach then sneak back in behind the geese...
but the moorhens got chased off that day, and I watched them hover around just outside the field fence, watching...
and the geese, fed and happy, settled down to sleep, with the one goose standing guard....
except, she didn`t, and dozed off, standing on one leg, head drooping in the sunshine...
so in snuck the moorhens agains, quick and quiet, and set to with the remains of the grain, and the duty goose woke, saw them and dashed toward them to drive them off.
Only they didn`t..they`d obviously been watching the hens and ducks...so dashed just out of her reach, and then as she turned back toward the grain, eating it possessively even though she was full already, they just strutted in close behind her and picked up what she missed.
And since then, they`ve been here every day.
They share the grain of my domestic birds, they share their drinking water, and they even sleep alongside the geese and hens now....
They are comical wee birds and I could spend hours watching them, if I didn`t have to work!
And the geese seem to have become, over time, more tolerant, either that or lazier....
Posted on Hermit Life at 11:10
Sometimes........
Posted: Monday, 26 November 2007 |
.........sometimes you just wonder, what the hell am I doing here, on a lump of rock in the North Sea, in the middle of yet another gale and looking at bits of my garden and suchlike being destroyed and scattered yet again?
Another windy weekend...if you get a good-ish summer, see, it lulls you into a false sense of security, so you get to forgetting, a bit, about the winter winds, the grey and dreich and cold.
And then all that sneaks up on you in the space of a fortnight and where before, I used to enjoy it because it was a `cosying down` time, a time when you stoked the fires and just shut the world out and kept warm, fed and dry, now I find myself getting a bit....irritated...(insert blush here at the cheek of being annoyed with the uncontrollable weather)....at the seemingly unending gales....
I think islanders, native or not, have a particular mindset...a toughness that can set them apart from mainlanders, but not the kind you see in any arrogant swagger or abrasive manner...it`s a quiet thing, a `getting on with it` thing that shows in the often smooth flow of daily life, of things being done despite the weather which tries to hold us prisoner in homes and farms, a confidence and healthy acceptance of, "This is just the way it is".....
I used to think I was like that...
But now I wonder...and find myself wishing for older days when winter meant months of deep snow (yes, old enough to remember real, proper winters folks) where you`d get bundled up and get out there and sled or build snowmen ...and I find myself wishing for creature comforts as I get older...oh for some central heating!
Yes, g`won, have a giggle....but don`t knock it til you`ve had to scrape ice off the inside of your windows.....
And as I go outside to once more inspect the wind damage, to see which henhouse has now been scattered all over the fields, I could wish, sometimes, that the winds would just......bug*er off for a peedie while and give us a break....
I`m just peedie you see..five foot of nothing, so I can`t even go outside in them if I see something in trouble out there, for I get knocked down and have actually been hurt on occasion with bits of things hitting me....
and the next morning when it dies down you look at your garden stripped bare and any plant that had dared to stick its nose above the ground is seared brown and brittle and half dead....and you get to thinking it is getting worse each year, isn`t it?
And I wonder what the future holds here, in the islands, in real practical terms.
Well there ye go, there`s my pleep over with for the morning....
Does you good to get it out of the system..........;-)
And in the end, I just get up after the winds have gone, go outside and watch the sun come up over the fields, and watch the sea, still angry, swollen and rough, pound the shore with fading ire, and listen to the winter geese take to the skies above me.
And I ken fine why I`m here.
Another windy weekend...if you get a good-ish summer, see, it lulls you into a false sense of security, so you get to forgetting, a bit, about the winter winds, the grey and dreich and cold.
And then all that sneaks up on you in the space of a fortnight and where before, I used to enjoy it because it was a `cosying down` time, a time when you stoked the fires and just shut the world out and kept warm, fed and dry, now I find myself getting a bit....irritated...(insert blush here at the cheek of being annoyed with the uncontrollable weather)....at the seemingly unending gales....
I think islanders, native or not, have a particular mindset...a toughness that can set them apart from mainlanders, but not the kind you see in any arrogant swagger or abrasive manner...it`s a quiet thing, a `getting on with it` thing that shows in the often smooth flow of daily life, of things being done despite the weather which tries to hold us prisoner in homes and farms, a confidence and healthy acceptance of, "This is just the way it is".....
I used to think I was like that...
But now I wonder...and find myself wishing for older days when winter meant months of deep snow (yes, old enough to remember real, proper winters folks) where you`d get bundled up and get out there and sled or build snowmen ...and I find myself wishing for creature comforts as I get older...oh for some central heating!
Yes, g`won, have a giggle....but don`t knock it til you`ve had to scrape ice off the inside of your windows.....
And as I go outside to once more inspect the wind damage, to see which henhouse has now been scattered all over the fields, I could wish, sometimes, that the winds would just......bug*er off for a peedie while and give us a break....
I`m just peedie you see..five foot of nothing, so I can`t even go outside in them if I see something in trouble out there, for I get knocked down and have actually been hurt on occasion with bits of things hitting me....
and the next morning when it dies down you look at your garden stripped bare and any plant that had dared to stick its nose above the ground is seared brown and brittle and half dead....and you get to thinking it is getting worse each year, isn`t it?
And I wonder what the future holds here, in the islands, in real practical terms.
Well there ye go, there`s my pleep over with for the morning....
Does you good to get it out of the system..........;-)
And in the end, I just get up after the winds have gone, go outside and watch the sun come up over the fields, and watch the sea, still angry, swollen and rough, pound the shore with fading ire, and listen to the winter geese take to the skies above me.
And I ken fine why I`m here.
Posted on Hermit Life at 09:17
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