So the tour has ended (taking a small group of Americans around Scotland in a van and having a grand time). Jack and I are settled in Stonehaven (which is near Aberdeenshire for those of you not conversant with Scottish geography). Actually, Jack has gone to fetch our beloved Trixie and spend a week with dear friends back in Tennessee. He arrived yesterday and will be home mid-October
Me, I’m coming to grips with a more peaceful lifestyle. Stonehaven is a tourism community and as the season is winding down, the locals are coming back to clubs for crocheting, foraging, and walking. Our flat looks out on a boardwalk and then the North Sea. I can’t tell you which view changes more rapidly: the layer of sea and sky combinations against the shoreline, or the people who walk past. This is rich and fertile ground for people-watching.
I am considering setting up a doggie bingo board for various breeds–airedales, westies, and a sort of generic larger long-haired dog breed with a tale that plumes over their backs and stick-up ears, something like the love child of a collie and a retriever, perhaps.
The other day I was sitting at my desk early, watching the sun rise over the sea, and a little green glowing triangle walked by, followed by a red circle.
What in the world, I thought, and then realized it was a man in a dark coat walking his two dogs, both of whom had glow collars. I see them regularly now, along with the miner’s helmets of the runners (white lights bobbing) and the tail lights of bicyclers (a steady red stream, sometimes almost a line for the racers).
But the best lights are the moon and stars before the sun comes up. While the boardwalk is well lit, if I sneak out of my flat through the private garden gate and stand between two of the lights, there’s a dark patch where I can see the constellations well enough to greet them by name. Orion is hanging low and to the right over the water. He’ll disappear over the next couple of month, but it was a delight to be greeted by him, my first morning of stargazing.
Orion and I go way back; I met him in childhood at my grandmother’s farm, one of the best stargazing places on earth because no one had outdoor lights. He was there when I moved to Germany, to Newfoundland (where he also hung over the ocean in my little flat), to Scotland, back to the States, and now here in Scotland, but much farther north and against the sea. My life has been a bounce between rural agriculture, city, seaside, and Orion has been there every time, waiting like an old friend.
Orion reminds me that the One who placed him there is also watching over me, no matter where I roam. And that is very nice indeed.
