Natural highs and lows

Hard on the heels of Storm Floris, another whirlwind made landfall in Orkney, as younger daughter and grandson came to visit for a week. Little Louis is not quite three years old and we had to take certain measures to keep him in the garden, but out of the pond. Fortunately, despite exploring absolutely everything else, he ignored the temporary fencing altogether. Phew. Everywhere we went, his faithful companions Duck and Lamby came too... At the play park On the beach (Lamby on the left, Duck on the right) Duck and Lamby are not to be confused with Scottish curling sweepers Hammy and Lammie... Hamilton (Hammy) McMillan on the left, Bobby Lammie on the right The beach was Louis' favourite place to go, digging holes in the sand, building  destroying sandcastles, exploring rock pools and paddling in the sea. A Hermit Crab. Birsay Rackwick, Hoy (with some mountains on the Scottish mainland just visible) Rackwick, Hoy Luckily, Louis didn't spot this shoe encrusted with Goose Barnac...

There are signs... amongst the day-to-day happenings, there are definitely signs. In Orkney, Autumn is not so much a season, it's the dawning realisation that birds you have been listening to or watching for several months are no longer there. Then, no sooner than that thought has flickered across your mind, the empty skies, fields and bays are filled with different species, a new palette of colours, sights and sounds. And, if you're a leaf, Autumn lasts about 24 hours. Plants don't tend to be sentimental, they can't afford to be. For them, Summer to Winter is like a switch being thrown. This week, many flocks of Pink-footed Geese winged their way south through the scudding Orcadian sky. Energetic V's of "Wink, wink" sounds battling the gusting breeze as they headed for estuaries far from the Arctic Circle. I saw my first Whooper Swans of the Winter, a group of a dozen, counter-intuitively flying north, but I think they were headed for St Peter's Pool ...