Growing New Roots

I have been searching for wise words from deep thinkers to remind me of the importance of "grounding in place" -- that is, calming down, observing deeply, and letting my immediate surroundings and experiences seep into my pores and sink into my bones.

As opposed to racing around the countryside ticking off castles visited, hikes conquered, famous battlefields glanced at, scones eaten.

Or hunching over the laptop or a stack of brochures to plan big, showy adventures in those big, showy, well-known places that everyone pins to their Pinterest boards (Glencoe, anyone? Eilean Donan castle?  Loch Ness?  And as long as we're on this side of the pond, why not Paris or Santorini or the Cinque Terre?).

Or merely skimming through this first year, knowing that it's only a twelve-month sojourn before a longer stay somewhere else, which in turn might be just a parenthetical statement in the larger story of our lives ("...those five years we spent in Scotland").

But, you know, I don't need a book or a web article to tell me that it's not a waste of time to sit and savor the cooing of the wood pigeons (and to notice how much they sound like the mourning doves of my old neighborhood)...or to stand inside a circle of ancient yew trees in the churchyard to listen to a fragile elderly man talk about how he still misses his sister after all these years...or to record the progress of the slow-to-open snowdrop buds.

Living it -- and recording it -- nourishes my soul, plain and simple.  I hope you enjoy it, too.

(I took all of these pictures yesterday while on a walk along the River Tweed from Coldstream to Lennel and back.  As you can see, the snowdrops are in their full glory.  I also spotted *one* lavender crocus and the foliage of hundreds of daffodils and wild garlic plants yet to bloom.  Spring is just around the corner...)