Two photos of sneezewort on the path to the windfarm
Hot August nights are a mixed blessing! As a little girl I remember being too hot to settle to
sleep. My brother and I would hang out of his bedroom window so precariously that the
kindly man who lived across the lane would come and tell Mum what we were up to. Of
course, to two active children, he was a tell-tale. Now, thinking back, he was a wise man! But
we loved the opportunity to spend longer outside, watching the light fade and listening to the
sounds of harvesting all around us.
The Mighty Atlantic
My brother's bedroom faced our lane. My bedroom was above an old barn which my parents
had as a store and Mum also used as the washhouse, with dolly tubs, a mangle, a copper
posher and old tin baths. The bedroom had two windows - opposite each other and so, when
the wind blew, it was a chilly room. One window faced our back yard and garden and the
other faced the mere. The mere had dried up a long time ago with just a ditch as evidence that
once upon a time there had been a body of water there. The joy of it though was on those hot
August nights when I could watch men harvesting with reaper-binders or see the stooks being
set out across the stubble. Little animals were easy to spot at harvest time as they sadly
became homeless. I took a nest of mice home once – not one of them survived. I watched
pigeons flying low over the field and then they would fill their crops with the scattered grain.
Ice plant - Sedum - when this plant turns properly pink I always think we are near to the end of summer
Growing up, as a teenager, the hot August nights were a time for barn dances, straw in our
clothes and dusty shoes. It always seemed to get dark much earlier than it should have done!
Later still, as parents, we would sometimes take the children for walks on August evenings.
The baby would have fallen asleep before we arrived home and then simply needed careful
lifting into the cot. The kids were quite impressed by how different the world seemed when
they would normally have been in their beds. Discussions about that other world would last
far longer than the August night.
Living in Scotland though, school starts back in August and so the evenings - no matter how
hot - became a round of homework - something which wasn't missed during the summer
holiday! It's surprising how different it feels to start back at school in mid-August when I was
always used to being on holiday for the entire month.
“ ..... give us once again the wishing cap
Of Fortunatus, and the invisible coat
Of Jack the Giantkiller, Robin Hood,
And Sabra in the forest with Saint George!
The child, whose love is here, at least, doth reap
One precious gain, that he forgets himself.”
From “The Prelude”, William Wordsworth
Hang homework!
August isn't generally considered a month of change as are September and March with their
equinoctial significance - and yet there are things happening here at Stempster which mark it
out as a month to take notice and be aware. It often seems to rain during the night and this
year we've also had mist to keep things from drying out. Ten days ago it was positively foggy
- I couldn't see a single wind turbine from the house. The afternoon turned glorious but, by
evening, the fog was back with a vengeance.
The deer are back in the evenings too. They were spotted when coming home a couple of
times and caught on the trail camera. Earlier this week the dogs were incredibly interested
in the verges and, when we stood back and looked, we noticed that swathes of herbage had
been flattened during the night. Deer or dinosaurs?
Thistle on the wind farm path
Thistles and sheep
Another August evening visitor was Henny. We were very excited to see her close to the
house as we were eating our evening meal. She hasn't been around much lately and we were
quite concerned about the entire family - illegal persecution, by those who rear grouse for
sport, being what it is!
A week ago I felt the late summer ripeness hanging over everything and so did the insects
and so did the bats who ate the insects - a bit like the old lady who swallowed the fly! There
were so many bats that night - some nights they are out in greater numbers – and that was one
such.
Sometimes it seems that there are just not enough hours in a day. I could spend all day in the
garden if I were able. The fact that there are other things going on in my life make that
impossible. It's when I reflect on it and when I consider how much more I wish we'd achieved
in the garden after a year here at Stempster, that I remember Susan Hill's words in her
delightful little book, "Through The Garden Gate" - IN PRAISE OF THE WILDERNESS:
The best gardens are something of a muddle. They have an air of happy accident, they look a little careless, however carefully in fact the whole has been planned.
I combine these words with the thrill when I see so many birds, insects, small and large
mammals and amphibians all around me - and then I know we're on track!
The pond is taking shape
In the summer months I often think of the travelling folk and pearl-fishers of the Scottish
Highlands and, when I think of them and sing to myself, "The Yellow On The Broom", I
remind myself that we don't own the natural world - rather it owns us. It draws us to it and
lets us rest a while. There are no more "Summer Walkers" nowadays but there are many of us
who choose to connect with the countryside - especially in the holiday months of the year.
"The Summer Walkers" by Timothy Neat is essential reading for anyone with an interest in
Scottish travelling people. It"s written in a matter-of-fact style and in no way romanticizes
their way of life:
Every summer we would set out for five or six months on the road with the horses, dogs,
one to three carts, our big bow tent, and two or three bantams for eggs. Sometimes two or
three families would travel together, sometimes our family would travel alone.
If you would like to learn more about Scottish travelling life, Betsy Whyte has also written
two books which are very human accounts of growing up in the travelling community - "The Yellow On The Broom" and "Red Rowans And Wild Honey".
Perhaps there are no more Summer Walkers in the strict sense of the word but, believe me,
there are hundreds of like-minded people who travel through Caithness every summer - in
campervans or towing caravans. Some will even stop to gather up the bounty of our
countryside - it's there for everyone – just share nicely! The big difference is that neither we
nor our 2022 summer visitors actually need what we have in our rivers and along our
hedgerows. We’re grateful for it but we can manage without it. For the Summer Walkers, it
was about survival.
Three pictures of poppies in the wildflower garden
Rosebay willowherb is hanging on but much of it has gone to seed now. For a long time it
was associated with waste lands and bomb sites and subsequently lost much of its popularity.
However, it is a feature of the British later summer months and its drama brings alive the
verges throughout the countryside. It follows the more delicate roadside flowers like the
foxglove. I am very fond of the foxglove. I remember when the children were small they
assumed that the foxglove flowers were in fact gloves for foxes – happy days! The foxglove
is a useful and pretty plant but the rosebay willowherb is the statement flower which makes
us sit up and take notice that summer won’t be here forever and I try to implant the magenta
columns in my inner eye so that they stay with me through the winter months when colour is
scarce.
In many picture books for children, August is illustrated by scenes of children with nets,
hovering over a rockpool and gazing with curiosity at tiny crabs and pretty seaweeds which
were left behind when the tide went out. I have my own childhood memories of visits to the
seaside. They are happy memories mostly – except the one when I was on a donkey and
really not enjoying the ride! There were things one was expected to do at the seaside - eat an
ice cream, make a sand castle and paddle in the sea. My grandparents loved the beach as
much as my brother and I did.
When our own children were small, the seaside was a different experience. We lived in
Orkney – two of our daughters were born there – and the donkey-riding type of seaside
experience just didn’t happen there! Thankfully! My kids were hungry for an understanding
of the life of the seashore, the sand dunes and the potential drama of the waves. We were not
well-off – we had a family of six children – and we sometimes struggled to make ends meet.
However, the fact that we had very little in monetary terms meant that we found our
entertainment in other ways and we became wrapped up in the natural world - something
which had always been important to me in a practical and spiritual sense. We learned together
as a family. The children learned from their father and me at first and now I learn from my
grown-up children – including my son-in-law whose knowledge of trees takes some beating!
Two pictures of the Swedish whitebeam
August is fast becoming September and things are changing around us. Bird behaviour is one
example and I’ve noticed there is quite a bit of flocking going on in the skies. Clemency
spotted a flock of lapwings above the farm on the hill. Lapwings are beautiful birds and when
you get up close you can see their metallic green upper feathers. They like to make large
flocks in the autumn and the resident birds are joined by winter visitors as the season moves
on. Whenever I see them in flocks I think back to Lincolnshire and how many there were
there when I was young. It was a regular thing to spot them on arable land and especially
newly ploughed fields.
This morning, quite early, I noticed many swallows flying together in a frenzy of feeding. I
had a sinking feeling. Are they getting themselves ready to fly away from Caithness? I hope
not – at least not just yet. I get that the insects are scarce in the winter months and so they
can’t possibly stay here but there will be lots of insects through September – so please don’t
leave us now – wait a little while – we miss you when you’re not swooping over the burns
and the Forss river - and almost clipping the walls of our house, sometimes.
After breakfast I watched four pheasants on the high stone wall between our kitchen garden
and our little cottage garden. There was a male and what appeared to be three females –
although they may have been immature birds rather than females – it was difficult to tell
behind the spirea. The dogs always know when we’ve had pheasants in the garden. They are
very interested and will sometimes run about as if they themselves want to take to the air too.
In the last few days the tawny owls have become very vocal again. They tend to stop calling
in summer but no one told this pair! I sometimes look for them when walking through the
trees in the daylight – but I’ve never seen them at those times. They are very good at hiding
themselves away until night time. It’s the tawny owl which Beatrix Potter used as the
inspiration for Old Brown in her Squirrel Nutkin story. We have barn owls nearby too.
Sometimes people call them screech owls – for obvious reasons – and they are the white
ghosts you sometimes see as you are driving home any time from dusk into the night.
Scabious - I bought this plant back on 4th April. It was in flower then and it's never stopped flowering
So those hot August nights may be sticky and they may prevent deep sleep due to those high
temperatures but they also have their very own story to tell. Nights of plenty and nights of
nothing. A plentiful harvest and skies full of insects and yet they can be nights when little
things are made homeless and it is impossible to see through the mist and fog – a mixed
blessing.
“Perhaps if we could penetrate Nature’s secrets we should find that what we call weeds are
more essential to the well-being of the world, than the most precious fruit or grain.”
From “Our Old Home”, Nathaniel Hawthorne
Very blue vetch on the path to the windfarm
Dear Susan, I love your August Blog. It sums up this time of year perfectly. You have such an attention to detail and your childhood reminiscences bring back my own happy childhood days. Thank you x
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