My parents came to visit me last month during THAT heatwave. My father could be heard saying, “It reminds me of 1976” at every opportunity and to anyone who would listen. I wasn’t alive then so for me the June heatwave was a new experience. The grass was turning a crispy shade of yellow, the polytunnel was so hot the thermometer probably needed an extra foot of temperature gauges as the mercury hit the top and wanted to carry on going, we all started developing tans and there were a lot of sleepless nights. Throw in the ever later dusk and even earlier dawn and you’ve got a recipe for tiredness.
But we can’t complain, the flowers on the machair have been spectacular this year. Red Clover, Birds Foot Trefoil, Yarrow, Primroses, Daisies, Buttercups, Hebridean Spotted Orchid, Creeping Thyme, Marsh Lousewort, Bog Asphodel, Silverweed, Corn Marigolds, Wild Carrot, Cotton Grass and Sea Thrift, to name but a few, had my mother and I crawling about on the machair trying to identify and photograph each different one we spotted. So often we choose to spend time looking at the big vistas but there is a whole world right under your feet, if you choose to look. Lie down on the machair and play “If I were an inch tall” and suddenly these tiny, colourful flowers become towering beauties.
The farm is now gearing up for shearing. They have been out gathering at 4.30am around the west end the past few days and the fields around the square are full of unsuspecting sheep awaiting an appointment with the barber. The shearing team and their entourage will arrive this weekend and it will be all hands on deck to get through the 600 sheep in a handful of days. It has been touch and go with the sunshine and showers trying to get the sheep dry enough to be sheared. It's not so much that the sheep are difficult to shear when wet, its that the wool has to be dried out before it gets put in the wool bags. This adds an extra step into an otherwise seamless, and very impressive operation.
Comments