Stuck on Skye
A fortnight ago we were in Skye. Funny how one instinctively says ‘in Skye’ rather than ‘on Skye’. Perhaps because it is a large island, an area in its own right, that you cannot stand ‘on’ like a child on a boulder. The island encompasses you, absorbs you into its landscape and its own distinctive atmosphere. It is my favourite place to be; and the journey from here to there is one of the most beautiful journeys I know, whether in the crisp air of snowy January, the fresh greens of early summer or the rain and amber gold of autumn.
Inevitably, therefore, I took a sackful of photos during our precious weekend staying with a friend in the south of Skye. Some of these were, naturally, taken with a view to sharing them here.
But now I’m stuck. How wonderful, to be stuck on Skye! No, I am back home, but have spent the past fortnight failing to publish a post about our trip. The difficulty is that everything – the journey, the destination – is so beautiful to my eyes that I’ve been unable to single out which images to show you. (My editing abilities are also impeded at the moment by what seems to be a bit of a relapse in the old brain injury department, leaving me very tired and headachy and generally feeling and acting as if I have mince between the ears.) I am determined to share some of the beauty we saw, however, even if it’s in a series of small posts rather than one properly crafted big one. Watch this space.
There is an introductory essay on Skye here, which I wrote after an autumn visit last year.