Having bought a house and spent a week flying by the seat of our collective knickers before finally selling the flat, we entered March in a curious state of limbo. We weren't actually moving until April, yet we had kind of left months earlier in our own hearts. We didn't even have the twice weekly cleaning rituals for the no longer happening open viewing sessions to keep us occupied.

We took a trip to Fife to give various parental units a drive-by of our soon-to-be new home - this included one set of units totally blanking the instruction to "just drive past, don't stop" - which is nothing short of obvious on the soon- to-be our street.

Mortification did not stop the blinking of the camera as we explored some of the coast near East Wemyss...

The message seemed to be light coming out of the dark... or something poetic...

A previously booked holiday with my family units took care of one of the limbo weeks, a most well-timed break from The Waiting Game.

I confess to having a small change of mind when I saw this house at Firemore Bay...

We enjoyed a trip on a Creel Fishing Boat (that's sustainable fishing where the manny handles everything he catches and pits back onyhing nae fine or nae al enough...)

Mither, Gemma and I test climbed about a quarter of Stac Pollaidh...

We danced in a sunset...

And we caught a last few glimpses of our beloved foxes...

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Reflections 2009 ~ March originally appeared on Taexalia on December 18, 2009.

I have been to London several times, enough times that I can navigate myself around some areas without always needing a map - and can even be of help to resident Londoners who find themselves confused on the Tube (read one Londoner and technically it was the Overground - but I knew which train she needed and she didn't!). Until last Friday I had never been to the Tower of London.

I have been *this close* to the Tower of London, I have photographed it from the outside and I have even considered the length of the queue for tickets but I have never combined all of these things with an arrival time of 9am and the prospect of a full day to take advantage of my seventeen pounds down payment. I love history and I love buildings with stories in the walls, but if it's going to cost me seventeen pounds then I need to get more than a sweaty hour crammed in with the afternoon tourist mob. On Friday we were at the gates before they opened and I wondered whether any ghosts watched from the towers and marvelled at the keenness of folk to get in...

When we did pass under the gates, were too early for the first guided walk and so we decided to explore a bit in the meantime. A beeline was made for the Ravens, this blogger having somewhat of an affinity with the corvid ones.

I have mixed feelings about what I saw. Later, the first (only?) female Yeoman Warder would tell us that the Ravens are very happy and live much longer in the Tower than they do in the wild but I couldn't quite decide if it is better to have a long life with clipped wings or a shorter life with the freedom to choose... It seemed somehow cruel to watch a Raven try to take off as it interacted with its corvid cousins, the many Crows who also populated the area. As intelligent as corvids are, these birds never seem to have figured out that for them flight is curtailed.

We had the luxury of beating the rush and getting some time alone with the birds and were treated to some close-up action as two of the Ravens strutted up to us to investigate our worthiness. We are not sure of their collective conclusion, but we were excited to get so close to these wonderful creatures.

Later in the day we returned to the spot for another look, but by then there was a throng of people chattering and shouting. We were somewhat amused as they all aimed their cameras at a bird strutting along the fence who stopped to pose for them - a Crow taking up the slack as the Ravens watched from the hill.

I would have paid seventeen pounds for that alone

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Corvid Cheek originally appeared on Taexalia on October 28, 2009.

I love the way I feel when I walk into the Turbine Hall at the Tate Modern. Sometimes I wonder if I even need an installation at the other end, or if I could just be satisfied with the imposing hulk of space. What would I do with the space? How would I move in it? Would I start to build something?

Today there is a big black box looming at the end of the hall. Half-term children are running and screaming underneath the huge steel structure, trusting the construction won't start to creak and bend and collapse. A sign depicts that photography is banned as cameras flash and catch me right in the retina.

We turn and look up the ramp at the black space peppered with the faint shapes of light coloured garments. It reminds me of a puppet show I saw as a child where the performers dressed in black so that only the dragons and crows could be seen against the blackout curtain at the back of the stage.

We walk together up the ramp and into the blackness. I am tickled by the way the box seems to eat the light. I observe my reactions as my senses try to figure out the right course of action... In a city where shoving a tourist is almost polite, where queue jumping is an act of survival and worthy of a category in the next Olympics and where personal space is at a premium - it is interesting to walk into the black box trusting that no-one will barge into you and there is an almost communal feeling as everyone becomes nothing in nothingness.

Then confusion as I guess we are at the wall but I cannot believe that just because everyone else has stopped that I must stop. I need to stretch my arm and feel the solid wall before I can turn and look at the light. I find myself wishing it was bigger, longer, blacker.

Miroslaw Balka - How It Is - Tate Modern

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How It Is originally appeared on Taexalia on October 27, 2009.

Sometimes you just have to go with the flow, forget about the calorie count and stand in line with the locals. I am told that in Philadelphia there are three places that sell worthwhile Philly Cheese Steaks. Two of them are right across the street from each other and I am told this is where the tourists go. I am told that to get the real deal one must hand dollars over to Tony Luke.

Tony Luke's had a big line when we arrived (that's a queue to some of you) and a big line when we left. I wondered if that line was a constant for the whole 24/7 that the beef is cooking and being thrown into sandwiches. I wondered how many cows it takes to keep Tony Luke's ticking over.

I wanted to take a picture of the menu hanging on the building but my hostess suggested that might not be a good idea. We didn't know who might be in the line and who might be objecting to possibly being in the background of my picture. We did take a picture as we drove past in the car and it was suggested to me that anyone who saw that would think we were Feds. I have no idea if my chain was being pulled or not but since the person telling me all this is involved in law enforcement, I took the advice.

I'm not sure the picture describes fully the size of this thing. But apparently Philly has one of the highest obese populations in the US and I'm laying that right at the door of this singular frankly delicious item.

It's messy. There is no clean polite spill free way to eat this. You collect it from the window and go round the corner and load up with gherkins, peppers (spicy bell ones), mustard and hot pepper sauce. You can add ketchup if you like but I didn't like. Then you pick it up and bite in. Juices slide down your chin and your fingers get all gooey, but after the first bite gets your taste buds going you give up any pretence of etiquette. Put simply, you eat.

Guilt be damned when you have twelve inches of juicy and delicious pleasure to devour.

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Philly Cheese Steak originally appeared on Taexalia on September 9, 2009.

The days between Imbolc and Ostara are, for me, the time I feel the Quickening. Tempestuous and unpredictable weather matched by the rampant behaviour of animals and birds, and the persistent appearance of plants like the snowdrops and crocuses.

Always, the long dark days of Winter ebb seemingly too slowly into the shorter days of Spring and we find ourselves always seeking definitive signs that Spring has arrived. This is something that has been with us for thousands of years and something that seems just as important now, in these times of climate change, as it was in the days when the coming of Spring was never taken for granted. Whatever you choose to believe is the reason for climate change, the climate - and the signs of the seasons - is changing.

I was thrilled to note the number of bees out and about in Wester Ross, buzzing about and busy with the business of feeding and pollinating. Our bees are precious and their survival is pretty much linked to our survival. Let's hope it is as a good year for bees as the numbers I saw suggest.

Sticking with the insects, my eye was caught by a hairy crawly friend investigating a rocky crevice on the slopes of Stac Pollaidh. The books I have to hand haven't given me a conclusive identification over which moth or butterfly this caterpillar is destined to become, but it was lovely to spot him out and about.

Speaking of butterflies, we caught sight of a pair of them dancing in the sunlight as we munched on lunch one day. The first butterflies of the year.

One of the most potent signs of Spring is the presence of frogspawn in still waters. Frogs aren't choosy and will perpetuate their load in lochs, ditches and puddles. Toads are even less choosy and happily mix their potential amongst that of the frog.

The Quickening brings with it Mating and the wild creatures often indulge in elaborate rituals. This may be why the male Dunnock is more noticeable in early Spring as he perches high and sings out for a mate. This one added to the special atmosphere of Poolewe Cemetary and happily posed for a few shots.

The River Ewe, a well known salmon river, was in full spate as it tumbled under the bridge and burst out into Loch Ewe. One morning we were presented with quite a sight as we walked across it and caught sight of two Herring Gulls in the middle of the peaty froth. I don't have a photo because it was too fleeting a moment to interrupt by fumbling for a camera, but I have to record that these two birds demonstrated what can only be described as sheer skill as they navigated the rapids whilst ensuring a new generation of great fisher birds...

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Highland Spring originally appeared on Taexalia on March 24, 2009.

Having a plan is always a good idea, setting goals is often a great motivator and laying a good foundation is generally clever. Embracing life as it comes, accepting failure and letting go of expectations is wisdom.

I had a long list of Things To Do On Holiday and they did not come to pass in the ways I had hoped and planned for, but the surprises and the unplanned moments more than made up for the not-quite-there-yets.

Like my nephew learning to stand then gradually having the confidence to remove one hand from the edge of the sofa and by the end of week testing wobbly steps whilst grasping grown up fingers, achieving a specific goal isn't always as straightforward as knowing what you want to do and doing it. Especially where wildlife is concerned.

I had two particular goals, Day Zero goals in fact, planned for accomplishment during the week - seeing and photographing a Pine Marten and an Otter. I imagined I'd have it easy since our previous day-trip to the area produced an actual Otter sighting (accompanied by a slow camera) and actual Pine Marten Poop.

Perhaps I have been lulled into a false sense of security by my foxy adventures, and I confess to a somewhat self-satisfied smirk when I read the BBC Wildlife Magazine April article "How To Find Urban Foxes" - all I have to do is sit at my desk and remember to open the blind to experience a window into the life of a fox family.

The Otters and Pine Martens of Wester Ross, it seems, are intent on making me work harder.

We were in sight of the small jetty in Gairloch Harbour so often I lost count. Each time our heads turned and our necks creaked as we trained our eyes on the one spot in Scotland we definitely knew an Otter had played, and each time the water remained intact, impenetrable by Otter or our fervent wishes. I suspect I was not the only one giving this same treatment to every loch, sea loch, river and puddle in Wester Ross - anticipating a shiny head and being rewarded with a soggy rock.

In fairness, Otter had a part to play in our anticipation having placed unmistakeable and unmissable evidence of self just inside the swing gate leading to the wildlife hide at Inverewe Gardens, a spot not ten minutes walk from our holiday cottage and porridge base. I say unmistakeable... I confess that I did have to consult my new bible (Animal Tracks and Signs) to identify the following as my first ever Otter Spraint:

Yes, I have just re-sized, edited and water-marked a photo of poop just for your enjoyment. Never let it be said that I don't share my experience of life in full, or indeed that I don't own my shit. I could go on all day about shit this and shit that... or I could leave it to you to have a look for the remnants of fish bones, the oily residue and the freshness that indicates the Otter was there not very much earlier than we were.

Aren't you thanking your lucky stars we haven't progressed to smell-o-vision?

Otter illuded us for the entire week with the only other evidence of a missed opportunity being some wonderful tracks in the sands at Firemore Beach - a set winding their way down the beach to the water and another set, amongst the rocks, meandering back up the beach again.

Standing on the beach I could feel the energy of the otter and its playful gait, and in my mind's eye I could see it enjoying the deserted sands and I take pleasure in collecting the pieces of the jigsaw until I can bring the whole beastie to my blog.

~*~

Pine Marten too has kept her distance, although I have to conclude that sighting a Pine Marten might be better achieved sitting patiently alone at dusk as opposed to daytime walking with five other adults, one child in a pushchair and The GemmaDog...

For the future, I now have several choices for my dusk rendevous since I have found (and photographed) almost enough Pine Marten Poop to make a whole Pine Marten. I saw Pine Marten droppings on every woodland walk we did but I will refrain from sharing them all with you and mark the trail only the once:

These weren't fresh, but the Pine Marten had eaten something furry...

~*~

In the interests of dealing with all the shit in one post, here is one last picture - red fox droppings that appeared to have been left shortly before we descended the Devil's Elbow section of path within Inverewe Gardens just before a beautiful sunset..

After all it almost wouldn't be proper to post a blog without some reference to a fox, would it?

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Oh Shit Sherlock originally appeared on Taexalia on March 22, 2009.

Well that is if I can actually get to sleep.

I have a tradition that the night before a trip I am unable to settle down and sleep. Usually it is excitement flavoured with the thoughtstream of concern over whether I have packed enough of the right clothes. Which is kind of funny since I am not a fashion fiend in the slightest. I can tell you that for this trip I have at least two pairs of socks for every occasion. Perhaps even three. So a sock-free thoughstream at least.

Our adventure is going to take place in the North West of Scotland and I have been busy twiddling with things to allow something resembling mobile blogging. If I had an iPhone, or even one that wasn't from the Triassic, then things would be simpler. But things are never simple with me.

So - to the left you can follow the camera phone pics via Flickr, and to the right you can follow Tweets via my Twitter feed. I will be back here in the middle sometime soon with better quality photos and hopefully a bunch of stories.

That is if I survive the toothache which conveniently started up this evening.

Another reason why I may get no sleep.

Bon voyage!

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One More Sleep originally appeared on Taexalia on March 12, 2009.

As we travelled towards home, hoping to reach Garve before the sun slipped below the horizon, we were caught by the beauty of this beast rising out of the waters. The Male Parental Unit interpreted my clicking camera followed by small sighs of exasperation as a tree would swing into my lens just at the point of capture... followed by the winding down of the window and the influx of freezing air to mean I needed a photo op stop. He obliged.

High fences and decrepit signs warned against going closer to the edge of Loch Maree, but this intrepid blogger felt steady enough on her feet to step beyond the fence onto a huge slab of rock just to get the perfect angle...

A great hulk of Torridonian sandstone on a base of Lewisian Gneiss, a Munro 3218ft high (981m). Slioch means The Spear in Gaelic, although from this angle Slioch seems to rise from Loch Maree almost sphinx-like in the setting sun.

Loch Maree itself is the fourth largest freshwater loch in Scotland. It is peppered with more than thirty islands - including one island with its own loch containing another island. Loch Maree has other claims to fame, not least the presence of its own Kelpie - Muc-sheilch. Since my books are in storage I am limited in lore location for now...

I didn't spend too long out of the car... did I mention the freezing fog?

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Slioch originally appeared on Taexalia on December 30, 2008.

You may have noticed my Day Zero linky in the top bar - the page that lists my 101 in 1001. This is an experiment in goal setting, and also a bypass of New Year's Resolutions - instead giving myself 1001 days to complete the list and, quite probably, also embrace failure I found writing the list an interesting challenge - despite all the To Do lists floating around in my brain I had to really get creative to make it to 101.

On Sunday I was taken on a surprise trip to Poolewe and Gairloch. The original idea had been to revisit the Caledonian Pine Forest in Glen Affric, but when we stopped in Inverness for coffee we decided that it might be somewhat cold wandering around under the freezing fog that was blanketing everything. We decided that scenery from a warm vehicle was a better option, with the possibility of better weather further North and West. We were not disappointed.

Thankfully I will be spending a whole week in Poolewe in March so I was able to cope with the fleeting glimpse of the area in the short time we had, however the best surprise was the last minute otter sighting in the harbour at Gairloch.

I have only maybe spotted a wild otter once before during a walk along the Gannochy at Edzell. This was something like fifteen years ago but I still remember the shape that moved across a large slab of rock. It was dusk and we couldn't identify exactly what we were seeing, but we thought it must have been an otter. Since then I have never seemed to be in the right place at the right time - which is why I put an otter sighting on my 101 list. I really didn't think I'd be able to score it off so soon!

We were basically out of time and needing to turn back towards Aberdeen, but Male Parental Unit decided to give us a quick peek at the Gairloch Harbour a. As MPU drove along by the water I exclaimed "there's something in the water" and continued whining until car was u-turned and parked. I was informed that GemmaDog and I had "three minutes by the water" and I scrambled out of the car all afankle.

The something in the water was still bobbing and I realised it was not a seal and exclaimed "there's an otter in the water" as I saw the black creature playing and diving and unmistakably ottery.

My camera decided to play fuckwittage due to the rather low temperatures, and I was unable to get anything more than the following otter water art. But I will be back!

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A Goal in Gairloch originally appeared on Taexalia on December 30, 2008.

My single secret birthday wish was for a day of guaranteed peace and quiet... @ delivered that and so much more with a surprise trip to Mallaig... More to tell soon but here is a snippet as the ferry returned from Eigg...

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Peaceful Birthday originally appeared on Taexalia on July 26, 2008.