Zen weather

It is time for a bit of balance on NaHAL, after all those stormy posts of gale force winds and crashing seas. Today was calm, clear and wonderfully lit by a low Winter sun, the sort of day that reminds you why you live in Orkney. In the afternoon, there was nothing else for it: forget festive shopping; say "No!" to chores; grab outdoor gear and immerse oneself in the spectacle.

A few minutes' drive brings us to the Brodgar isthmus, the Neolithic landscape nestled between Harray and Stenness Lochs. A few other folk are taking the opportunity for some fresh air, but the car park is practically empty. Almost sacrilegiously, we bypass the four thousand year old stones of the Ring and head along the path that hugs the Stenness Loch shore, our eyes darting across the water's surface, hoping for a glimpse of an Otter, whilst our ears tune in to the bird calls which are emanating from the landscape: Curlew, Raven, Long-tailed Duck, Red-throated Diver, Wigeon and Meadow Pipit.

A pair of Stonechats are feeding along a field edge, making use of a wire fence as a lookout for possible morsels in the damp vegetation below. The low sun illuminates their plumage such that they seem to glow with a cosy red warmth.

As the sun sets, it disappears behind a bank of cloud for a while, but then re-emerges to 'roll' into a valley between two of the hills of Hoy. I ponder that it can't be a coincidence that the place we're in is where Neolithic folk chose to construct a ritual landscape, the closeness of the Winter solstice adding a frisson of spine tingles to my multi-millennial musings.

Serendipitously, behind us, an almost full moon rises, revealing a scene of delicate pink-blushed grey hues in contrast to the fiery dusk of the sun.

Walking back through the Ring, we encounter some of Nature's random archaeologists taking a break from their excavations. Silhouetted on the skyline, it is almost as though a crack team of shadow puppeteers is at work, preparing for an evening's entertainment which will likely fall foul of pandemic regulations.

Whilst writing this post, I did learn a few things: the word 'myriad' actually denotes a quantity of ten thousand, and hence, sadly, I didn't use it to describe the quantity of birds we could hear; and, even more bizarrely, the collective noun for a bunch of Rabbits is a 'fluffle'.