Winter, Pending move? and Church

Winter was hard.   No snowed up days, just persistent, dreary, very cold weather.   We were never unable to get out in the car, a bit tricky at times that's all.  And it isn't over yet.   There are signs of spring, occasional bright days, and the temperature is slowly climbing underneath the rainclouds.   The pheasants are back, but they are hardly interested in fat balls.   They are probably descendants of the fascinating crowd last year.  The field we're part of has been ploughed, and yesterday seeded, we think probably with oilseed rape.

We've been incredibly busy, with good commitments in Edinburgh, especially on the church front.   Friendships are developing, not only with the Lantern setup, which seems to be declining, but with the church we now go to as often as we can in Gracemount, Edinburgh.   Lively, with the right priorities, full to bursting on Sundays with a wide range of people, both in ages and in social spectrum.   Life has been incredibly good.

Now, and almost unbelievably, it looks as though we have sold the Durham house.   Surveyor in yesterday while the tenants are away.   Paperwork to fill in, masses of it.  The shock was so great we both got flu', me more seriously than I've ever had it.   Our first 'big' Vigil Group event yesterday, long planned and prayed for, found me so bad I couldn't get to it.  Therese, of course, coped with the additional responsibility and led it very well.   It seems to have been received very well indeed.

No pheasants now.  The 'season of mists' is upon us, but not 'mellow fruitfulness'.   The season was poor because of a strange weather pattern.   And the pheasants suffered gradual depletion during the summer.   First the ladies disappeared, two of them, and then, one morning, Philip and Philippa alone appeared, very bedraggled and missing a number of feathers.   I suspect that a fox has found their hideout.   Occasionally, one or the other appeared after that, but eventually, in October, neither of them came at all.  I had broken my leg whilst walking in the lakes, so could not feed them anyway for a while.   In the last week or so, Philip or a male relative has appeared, slowly picking his way across the denuded field, stripped of its precious oilseed rape.  So all now has slowed down, with apparently no expectation of recovery.  But...

Morning Ritual

Phyllis came early this morning.   No male noises, she was on her own.   At her request I put out a fat ball.   She ran to devour it, pecking first at the few bits that had fallen off as I dropped it.   Her sister Philippa wasn't with her on this occasion, though yesterday both girls and their master Philemon shared a meal together.  She had almost finished when Phil appeared, rushing at her from the side lawn.   Off she flew, discerning his amorous intent, and for a long time there was no sign of either of them.   Then Phil appeared, slowly stalking back to the lawn.   He paid no attention to the few bits of the ball left, strutting with as much dignity as he could muster to disguise his failure.

Here is a picture of what they were up to yesterday.

On Holy Island

We have been here almost a week, at least I have (Mark).  Yesterday and today I am on my own, as Therese is back in Musselburgh doing her stint as school counsellor. The island has been very windy - I was almost blown over yesterday climbing up to the Heugh.  I lost a good cap in the wind there once, so now I stuff it in my pocket before reaching the top, where the wind yesterday was of storm proportions.

At the morning service every day until today were a couple who have been visiting the island for some years but came to the Centre service for the first time this week.   The man spoke of his Anglican background, resort to Buddhism and present affiliation with the Quakers.  Like so many, he became alienated from the traditional churches and is now trying to sort out his relationship to it.  We have had moving times of prayer with them each morning, sensing as always the spiritual presence of so many in the Centre, those who have met and prayed there down the years.

The island maintains its reputation as a 'thin place';  it is easy here to feel in contact with God and to feel led out in prayer.

Yesterday we finished clearing and importing from the garage all we wanted to, or had to have in the house, in order to be able to put the car away at night. Just in time, for the expected frost came, down to at least -5C in Edinburgh, probably lower here. Just now, at 8 am, it is -4 outside, though there is little sign of frost on the ground. We have amazing days together in this wonderful part of the world, so close to the sea and able to observe it near at hand, whetted by the breakers and shipped by the wind. Then walking in the open fields, in the centre of the activities of a working farm. This is above all farming country, and the food we eat is the freshest possible, so long as we go to the farm shop rather than the supermarket.

We have been here very nearly four months, and it has been just a delight.

It's now almost three months since our arrival in Dunbar, on Pleasance Farm. We have survived floods and winds, problems in travelling and extremely hard work (Therese) and are still enjoying immensely the cottage and its surroundings, dominated by fields, long vistas extending to Fife and beyond, and above all the SEA. Well actually, the Firth of Forth and the North Sea (out of separate windows). The place is mostly quiet, the daily low-flying jets being a very rude interruption to it, and the steady rhythm of the farm being a wonderfully reassuring presence.

Therese's work in Midlothian schools is coming to an end this week, and it will be a relief for her not to have to be out all day four days a week, though of course our income will be less. We have been astonishingly well looked after in that regard, beginning now to build up a little extra for her pension and more difficult times. She loves her work in Loretto, and seems to be establishing herself there with her excellent practice and intuitive feel for people's issues.

Meanwhile I have just sung the baritone solo part in Faure's Requiem with the Hadley Court singers, not too well I'm afraid and with such horrendous nerves that I will think hard before offering to do such a thing again!
The choir is good, friendly and have been very supportive. I will enjoy singing with them but this was too much too soon.

Watching out of my study window this morning, I saw what I thought at first was a leaf slowly falling through the still morning air. Then I realised that it was the feather of a bird, discarded in mid flight. It became the symbol of the old, discarded as we pass on through life.

Today we move, from a place which holds such painful, destructive memories for us, to a beautiful cottage on the slopes of the Lammermuir hills, a place where we can hopefully gradually recuperate from five years of something like hell.

We arise today, on the day of the memory of the Transfiguration!