The Hills are Calling

This entry has little to do with dogs, so leave now if you are not interested!

 

We had a trip to the east coast recently which gave us all a change of scenery.  The main reason for going was to attend the spreading of the ashes of an old friend who died recently. She was a girl I spent many, many hours with in the mountains.  I don't know how many hills we climbed together, or how many trips we took, but she was one of those people who was just totally and utterly herself.  No pretence, no posturing, just herself.  On most outings we took together, I had my dog Leroy with me, and it didn't seem right to go without a dog on this occasion.  I chose to take Tussock as she is the steadiest of the three, and probably the one most like Leroy but in female form.  Knowing I was going to be seeing people I haven't seen for quite a number of years, I didn't want to be having to keep such a keen eye out for a reprobate! 

It turned out that nobody else knew I was going other than the friend I travelled with and it was lovely to see the surprise on their faces as recognition came, and for me, it was like closing the circle around 20 years of my life.  We picked up where we left off, and despite so much water under so many bridges, it was like we had seen one another last week.

We chose a place we knew Fiona would love - a corrie up in the mountains - a flat area by a stream which would be host to wild flowers in summer and with a view of the hills.  We each took a turn to scatter some ashes, and then one of our party read a poem which, to all extents and purposes, could have been written by Fiona herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dust if you must.
But wouldn’t it be better,
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed?
Ponder the difference between want and need.

Dust if you must.
But there is not much time
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb!
Music to hear, and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must.
But the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes,
the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come round again.

Dust if you must.
But bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not kind.
And when you go, and go you must,
You, yourself, will make more dust.

- – - written by Mrs. Rose Milligan

The photographs below were all taken between 1988 and 1990

At the Smiddy at Dundonell

At the end of a two day walk up the Lairig Ghru and back down the Lairig an Laoigh

Blaeberry picking

More blaeberries - blue tongues and blue fingers!

Fiona and myself somewhere on Skye

Mr Snowman

An often seen pose

A favourite pastime - bumsliding - not always with a dog in hot pursuit!

Fiona wasn't THAT fond of Leroy, but even less when he was after her biscuits!

Fiona.  May you roam the hills for eternity.