The Winter We Watched Scotland in the Sun

For all the ways in which it is full of riches,

Scotland is a thin place.

Here, the distance between yesterdays is so small

that you could almost reach out into cold air

and touch the still supple skin of an ancestor in waiting.

For all that, there remains a great distance

between the country of my imagination

and the one beyond the limits of my vision.

To me, it feels as though the landscape itself is hewn from my mind,

sculpted and waiting only for you and I to greet it.

It is winter now.

In winter’s tight grip there is a longing and a belonging.

A longing for rivers, Munros, valleys and shorelines.

A belonging felt sharply in the deepest glens of the heart.

And a peaceful knowing that whatever distance I place between us,

wherever I go, there you are.

Warming beside January’s hearth I take comfort in the memory

that distance is no measure with which to reckon desire.

After all, it is not the miles that keep us apart, but the waiting.

Waiting for what? For the inner thaw.

One complacent hand knows that this place will never fade,

but the knowing hand holds fast that one day, I will.

And what of today? Today, plans are made.

Not the kind set out with compass and map.

Not the kind etched in paper and pen.

Today’s plans are legacies ablaze that may yet live

and fragile ones that may yet die.

The great armchair adventurer wonders

what will come of these dreams.

It is May in my life and I feel late spring in my soul.

Soon, the bear of winter will give way to the roar of summer.

And the seeds I have gently sewn will bloom beneath my fatherly eye.

No, I hold no fear that our journeys together will blossom, too.

Cairngorm, Speyside, Isle of Skye. The summit of Ben Rinnes. Rothiemurchus forest pathways. Arisaig, Camusdarach, Plockton harbour, the Loch of the Green Corrie. Schiehallion, The Fairy Mountain. And others. Others we don’t even know the names of yet.

These hills will stand our test of time.

These rivers will bind us apart.

These trees will hold our endless conversation.

These roads will always lead us back home again.

We are one, you and I.

Scotland and You. Scotland and I.

So when all is said and all is done, remember this.

Remember us and the legacy we scaled

as you place one final stone upon our loving cairn.

Remember each other, your companion along Caledonian roads.

Remember that your country lives within you, always,

that it is your steady and loyal home.

Remember the winter we watched Scotland in the sun, my boys.

That was our time.