If there was one word I would use to encapsulate this season, it would be Green. I have never seen colours and shades of green like it. Everything is so full of life. So rich, so verdant – bursting at the seams with vitality and abundance. It’s brilliant.
During the summer, the green has been dappled with shades of purple, too. Native foxgloves that tower overhead; the flowers from rhododendrons and heather. It has been a great season for the weather, too. Although we have had days where it has rained so hard that streets have flooded a little, it has also been hot and sunny. That mixed climate has been absolutely perfect in creating a really healthy environment here, where everything has grown to the absolute maximum. Branches on trees are bending with the weight of thousands of shining, emerald leaves. Insects are thriving, and the garden is alive with fledglings that still follow their parents around begging for scraps on the grassy floor.
We seem to be the only area of the UK that has prospered this summer. For others, it’s been months of no rain and searing heat. Everything is dry and brown in the relentlessly high temperatures – which is alien to me as up here we are in our own little bubble of paradise.
Family from Manchester came up to visit, and they were surprised by how fresh and cooler everything was up here. Of course, the one day we had plans to visit Mull for the day it was raining constantly. It didn’t matter though. I have always got childlike glee whenever I get onto a ferry. Especially early in the morning when the queues were lined with cars full of bags, maps opened up on the dashboards. The sense of adventure which I always love is stronger by tenfold within ferry queues. The smell of oil as the ferry pulls up, boarding into the belly of it as we squeeze past cars packed together like a metallic puzzle.
Up on the main deck, the rain and wind was invigorating. We were the only ones out there mostly. Rain ran off the ends of our noses as we watched Guillemots dancing in the wake of the ferry – and a beautiful pod of common dolphins chased the churning dark water. It was just as fun travelling in this weather as the rain really affected visibility. Suddenly large Calmac ferries came out of the haze by our side, alongside lighthouses on the rocks. As much as I tried to get some good shots, rain peppered my lens.
Mull itself was just as beautiful as ever. Large, deep green rolling hills alive and fresh. The air there is something else – so fresh and crisp. Spending so much time up here in Scotland makes me completely ignorant to the fact that life in Manchester where I used to live, and the rest of down South, is so hot. And dry. The gardens are brown with heat and the average temperature is way too hot.
Surprise trips to the Isle of Seil was equally as lovely – finding random stops as we wandered about little unknown villages with my camera and a hot chocolate in hand, watching quiet life and jellyfish bobbing by.
Although it was a very rainy start to the season, Summer itself has been lovely. We have been very lucky with the weather. There have been great days going down to the local beach teaching Roscoe how to swim – which he has perfected. It’s been lovely in between busy shifts being able to have nice days both out and at home. A definite highlight was going to the local Agricultural Show, and more importantly the Ceilidh in the hall later on that night. It was such a privilege and joy to experience it again with all my mates and my partner, and in the tipsy-haze and laughter of it all I do remember dancing to Strip the Willow incredibly badly in the sweaty chaos of the hall. And standing outside with smuggled cans of Tennents as we all caught our breath in the crisp night air.
There is definitely that familiar crisp edge to the air about now. Usually the lack of life is telling enough to suggest that Autumn is slowly creeping its way closer – but there are still so many things thriving here. I refuse to admit that there are quite a few leaves starting to fall now. In my eyes, the Swallows are still here. And the butterflies, and the dragonflies. So I am still in denial. My partner and I also found a tiny Pipistrelle bat at work which absolutely made my whole month. Both clad in blue food safety gloves we scooped the little thing up and took him away from the rush of the walk-in fridge towards the outside area where he could take off once he had rested. He was absolutely beautiful, and even in his tired state he still bared his tiny fangs as we carefully transported him.
I recently took a walk with Roscoe down to the beach, and I will admit that although the weather is still glorious here – nature is starting to make preparations for Autumn. Bright, ruby red Rowan berries are lining the trees down the path. These will be a massive source of food for birds once the weather is cool enough to deter all the bugs. The bracken is just about starting to bronze, and premature conkers and sycamore seeds are starting to brown. Very slowly. But for me that is always a big sign of Autumn.
What surprised me was the sheer amount of butterflies at the beach. Peacocks, Scotch Argus, Red Admirals, Large Whites all dance across the tall grass and the purple bobbles of Devil’s Bit Scabious plants that sway in the gentle wind. It was so nice to be out with my camera again – even though young Roscoe definitely thought I needed help investigating these butterflies as I waded through the grass with sea-salt stained sandals.
It is very hard to imagine all this rich life dying away – it’s going to take quite a lot to shift all these leaves and foliage. It has been a great summer – a busy one with work, but it’s been great exploring and having fun, and savouring the incredible life around us. Though I will admit I am looking forward to conker season. And hot chocolates. And good autumn storms… maybe.
Tide Notes 