We now have three blackbird nests just outside the bedroom window. At 4 a.m., our own Pavarotti sang his heart out, filling the early darkness with song. By 6:20, I was up and climbing the hill for a morning walk. The sky was unremarkable, and even the sheep were quiet, yet the landscape still felt beautiful and serene. Heading back now, feeling invigorated, time for a well-earned cup of tea.

Happy March! As the old saying goes, "In like a lion, out like a lamb." March ushers in the dramatic shift from winter’s chill to the gentle promise of spring. We’re all looking forward to brighter days and the renewal that spring brings into our lives.

Whatever your new month brings, I hope it is full of love, happiness and giggles. Have a lovely Sunday, and a wonderful month ahead.

Much love to our friends and family.

A day to honour love, rooted in the martyrdom of Saint Valentine in ancient Rome and combined with pagan fertility festivals like Lupercalia, evolved into a cultural tradition of exchanging romantic tokens/gifts to express affection for partners, family, and friends.

Wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day. You know us, any excuse to chill the bubbles, light more candles, and enjoy an indulgent meal and belther the night away.

Outside, the world is frosty white beneath bright blue skies and sunshine. Perfect for writing a wee message outdoors.

Whatever your weekend brings, I hope you have sunshine, love and laughter on this winter's day.

Last night's Snow Moon lit up the dining room, so I just had to go for a wee wander to enjoy it, did not have my camera, so a quick snap on the phone... 'beam me up Scotty'...reminds me of watching said famous tv production and my Dad telling us that one day we will all have a device/mini computer in our pockets, just like Cpt Kirk.

That, of course, was back in the day when mobile phones were scarce and about the size of a house brick, battery power of four hours, and all it did was make a phone call...and we were still sharing phone lines with our neighbours, I guess today we would call that conference calling!!

February, the shortest month in our calendar, arrives on a whisper, with days short and sweet. A month associated with love, any excuse to celebrate loving.  I’ve always enjoyed this month, for me, it feels like a bridge spanning time over frozen streams, carrying us from frostbitten mornings toward the golden embrace of spring.

Welcome back, February, how swiftly you’ve circled round again. Stay a while, but when you go, please take the last of the frost and snow, leave us basking in early sunshine and cheer, as March is ever closer near.

I heard the first line of a song today—‘these are the days I will remember’—words that feel especially poignant as we wait for Robert’s operation. January sweeps past like an artist at work, each day a new canvas in the gallery of winter. Some mornings shimmer with sharp, dancing frost, the space around us dusted in diamonds scattered around like a luminous gown. On other days, a heavy blanket of grey, lifeless clouds smother the sky, holding back the hope of brighter days. Then come the rain-soaked stretches, storms wandering through and drenching winter’s canvas in deep, dreary shades of grey as teardrops tracing sorrowful paths down the windowpanes, like grief washing over a battlefield once the fight is done.

Then come days when sunlight spills across the sky, unfolding in golden embrace, whispering secrets of spring’s imminent return. The air turns buoyant, and easy conversation drifts like petals through the village, with talk of weather woven with the deftness of Scottish tradition. Warmth caresses our cheeks, and for a breathless moment, the world feels perfectly in tune.

We wait with quiet yearning as January’s days drift by, longing to be out, our bikes spinning high in the hills, time dissolving behind us. There, we would lose ourselves in the patchwork wilds, muscles alive with exertion, as we soak up the countryside’s quiet majesty. To see, to breathe, to listen, immersed in nature’s hidden rhythms, alive to the subtle transformations that each season brings.

So, yes, these are the days I will remember, and look forward to them being in the past as we live for the future in the present.

This morning, I stumbled upon a wee Haggis, its tiny form shivering, eyes wide with the loneliness of one who’s wandered far from home. Lost and forlorn, it whimpered softly until a gentle cuddle returned warmth to its trembling body. Together we climbed the hill, the earth soft and damp beneath our feet, in search of its kin. It was not long before we stumbled across a frantic search party of distressed Haggi. Their snorting, squeaking, and even weeing with delight brought a smile to my face, such a rare and wondrous sight, as my wee granny would often say, a sight as rare as hens teeth.   Their joyous reunion erupted into a gregarious, impromptu dance, a wild Scottish thank-you, and then as quickly as they appeared, they were gone, disappearing through the morning mist of low clouds.

Beyond January’s midpoint, the sobering start of winter slips by with surprising haste, painting moody skies and shifting weather. Nights slowly drawing out, their moody darkness yielding to mornings that slowly stretch open, each one a shade brighter than the last. Birds flit and fuss at the feeders, their feathers fluffed against the chill, yet with every new dawn their renewed songs grow bolder by the increasing earlier hour.

And just like that, overnight, the frost gathers up her shimmering cloak, gently sweeping away the exquisite filigree of ice, collecting each glinting diamond thread and tucking it away as if it were a secret. She leaves behind only the memory of her breath, crisp and invigorating, vanishing into the darkness like a lover not yet ready to commit. By morning, the sun spreads her arms, spilling golden winter warmth over the waking world, bringing vibrant colours back across our path.

Winter arrives draped in a billowing cloak of ice crystals, each piece catching the light like shards of a chandelier. Veins of frosted lace unravel through the invisible currents of frozen air, sweeping past with the hush of a memory. Every breath conjures fresh artistry—delicate etchings blooming across windowpanes in endless, silvery brushstrokes. Tree branches bend beneath drapes of diamond frost, their patterns curling over palm fronds and flower heads, weaving the world into a silent cathedral of glittering designs.

Yesterday brought another quiet stroll beyond the village, just me and the long shadow of my tree companion. With Robert sidelined and awaiting surgery, these solo walks have become a time for gentle reflection and tranquil escape—each step an invitation to slow down, breathe deeply, and find peace in the familiar landscape.

December arrives as a tapestry of celebrations, each thread woven with memory and meaning. For us, the Winter Solstice is more than the turning of the year—it marks our wedding anniversary, a cherished pause to reflect on joy-filled days and dream of years still to come. As the world slows and quiets, we embrace rest and togetherness: toes warmed by the glow of log fires, favourite films flickering in the background, and the indulgence of rich, comforting food and wine. In these moments, time feels both suspended and deeply precious—a season for gratitude, love, and the gentle rhythms of home.

This month always flies past so fast for me. Busy creating, boxing, and shipping. The dark night doesn’t seem so dark this year; I guess winter has not really struck home yet, which makes this season feel lighter and more hopeful. I do love a touch of twinkle lights and extra candles. Seasonal flowers in the vases, a touch of holly, red berry wreaths, and robins.

November has been a relatively peaceful month. From the late winter sun casting gentle warmth as leaves continue to change colour and cling on until the bitter end, to frost-etched patterns sparkling through the dappled sunlight. For us, November has been a time for reflection, mourning the loss of a parent, and re-evaluating our sudden, unexpected health issues. To say we have faced challenges would be an understatement, but one thing is sure: our love for life together, the awe of the natural beauty around us, and the hope for more adventures ahead sustain us. Love and happiness bring a contentment that we have been fortunate enough to be enveloped in protectively. Always grateful for life that happens all around and the futur that awaits.

Térèsa

I always think of November as the handover month. When leaves are still falling from their branches, animals prepare to hibernate, as the weather can often be relatively mild —almost as if a small thank-you gift—the last of the autumnal sun shines through, carrying the remaining hints of warmth. When a brisk walk brings the first blush to our cheeks, we know the frost is waiting for its annual return, but not just yet! The last of the crunching leaves fills our path as the sun lowers in the sky, and the nights draw closer, the moon filling our evening skies, alive and bright. It's a time of anticipation, of the winter that's just around the corner.

The fires in the hearth, the candles glow; keep warm, be safe, and enjoy November's arms gently wrap around you, as we quietly await winter's snow.

Térèsa

I love the way the day warms up, friendly and easy at this time of year. Clouds slowly shake off their sleep and stretch out across the soft blue Autumnal skies, allowing the sun to shine through. The cooler temperatures now enable the trees to relax and prepare for their winter hibernation. Time to wind down and let the green leaves change, relaxing into those fabulous golden colours. Amber's dance with ruby reds as shades of yellow sapphires take to the centre stage, the Autumn Waltz has begun. Nature brings us a therapy of colours, like a gentle hug all around. Soon the leaves will fall and another dance will start, but for now, enjoy the warmth and glow that surround us.

Operation 'Sideboard' is now complete.

Weeks of careful carpentry went into making the side panel with two opening windows, ensuring that our porch is a comfortable spot all year round. We can now indulge in our love for breakfast outside, even in the colder months. Twinkle toes, our old cat, also enjoys the new addition, often found basking in the morning sun and watching the twirls of steam rise as the dew sparkles like happy tears.

Living and working in this beautiful place is a joy, but the true pleasure is sharing it with Robert. His retirement and health are our top priorities, especially with his permanently fractured neck. Despite the challenges, his resilience and positivity make him a joy to live with. I feel incredibly fortunate to have this lifestyle.

Embracing the serenity of the morning, the unhurried breaking of the fast, and the excitement of a new day with the one you love. After more years than we care to remember, breakfast was a rushed affair or a quick bite on the way out the door before six o'clock. The journey to work, the long day ahead, the rush of the day. It's a ritual we now cherish, the slower pace, and the chance to make up for lost breakfasts together.

Low cloud and drizzle this morning. We were splashed from above and underneath; the ground was so wet. Is it just me, or just this area, but it feels more like October. Cold and damp. Our morning ride out was nonetheless invigorating, and the hot milky coffee, a comforting warmth in a chilly morning, was very much needed. Back home and wrapped up in cosy warm clothes. The log burner will be on very soon.

I feel a snuggling afternoon is so very long overdue.