Luscious Loch Leven

We live about ten minutes away from Loch Leven. It ranks high among my favourite places in Scotland, and the more time I spend cycling, driving or walking around it, the more I'm drawn in by its compelling beauty.

Loch Leven has something for every taste and interest. We love cycling and the recently opened Loch Leven Heritage Trail provides a perfect opportunity for a few hours of traffic-free pedalling. Or lazy walks, if that tickles your fancy. The path is of consistent excellent quality and it is flat for the entire way. On sunny days you bump into all kinds: I screeched to a halt the other day when I saw a rhodesian ridgeback. This one had no ridge, and his owner told me the breeders wanted to get rid of it, and he rescued the puppy.

Vane Farm belongs to the RSPB and it is a bird-lover's mecca. I'm a complete ignoramus where birds are concerned, after two years in Scotland barely able to distinguish a goose from a moose, but this place has me bristling with excitement. In the coffee shop with spectacular views over the loch, one can feed on organic grub food and excellent coffee, all the while learning more about birds of a certain feather. The shop stocks all kinds of bird paraphernelia, including live worms, and it's a good place to buy gifts.

What gets me most about Loch Leven, though, is its history. Every time my eye catches the ruins of the castle in which Mary Queen of Scots was held hostage, I'm reminded that she must have looked out over the same waters and stared at the same hill while blethering with her servants and working on a tapestry. Or maybe she made use of the sultry spring light to convince George Douglas to help her escape. I wonder whether she appreciated the beauty or was just worried as she wrote letters to her baby son from her lonely window post. This is the wonder of Loch Leven.

I'm BAAAAAACK!

Since my last post, a few things have happened.

1. I have had a baby, with a donation from my husband;
2. My spelling has deterioraetd;
3. Obama is now president of the United States, and Zuma (not Gwen Stefani's son) is president of South Africa.

My lack of posts is due to the overwhelming nature of points one and two. Sometimes things are so momentous that you suffer from an overload of material and thus, silence.

We are having the most wonderful Summer here in the kingdom.

As a South African I thought I'd be able to cope with heat but I seem to have lost that ability. Each morning I stand in confusion in front of my extensive winter and autumn wardrobe, and don't know what to wear. The small pile of summery clothes are being worn to extinction and being a pessimist realist about the weather, I don't want to spend on garments that might be worn seldom in future. Sort of trying not to jinx it. The weather is wonderful for the baby, who now has the freedom to stick his bare toes into his mouth without a sock to contend with. And of course everybody is complaining about the sunshine, which further illustrates that us humans are never happy. Or that contentment is independent of context. But that is a matter for another day, I have to go and weed...