Oh what a wonderful morning

The world rushing by

The wake up call woke me up from my slumber. I didn’t sleep much during the night. There were lights outside my window that came and went and there were unknown sounds and movements that had me sleep with one eye open. Son was sleeping about a metre and a half off the ground and I was terrified a sudden movement would toss him out of the bed and onto the floor. The bed wasn’t to comfortable, but at least the arm rest on my seats didn’t constantly fall down and hit my arm, like in poor Husband’s bed. Beside me on the floor in a small nest of blankets, bed linen and out suitcase slept baby Daughter. She woke to the male voice on the radio wishing us a good morning and informing us about our arrival in Lörrach soon to come.

I tried to wipe the sleepiness off my face and looked over at Husband. He looked about as tired as I felt, wiping his face and eyes, yawning and stretching. Less than a week ago he came home after working nights for 14 days. Poor man was tired. I lifted up Daughter and placed her in the seat next to me. The compartment was warm and she had woken many times during the night to find comfort in being nursed. I fed her again before handing her over to Husband who then had had time to dress himself. Son was still sleeping above us. I dresses and drowsily opened the door to the hallway. As in a daze I walked to the end of the coach the lavatory as my goal. It was busy and I found a place to wait. Resting my head on the window, my arms crossed as if I was still curled up in bed, my gaze shifted from behind my eyelids to outside the coach and into the horizon.

The sun was just starting to show in the distance. Revealing a greyish land covered in lazy colours. A mist hung over small pools of mirror-blank small lakes slowly travelling from in front of the train to behind. The land of yesterday was flat. The land of today had rolling hills. Wine ranks climbing and rolling over hills. Architecture had changed and a hint of Türoler style was present in some of the houses. Feeling the sun reached my window and my face I felt the energy of a new day. My body was slowly recharging.

The conductor was running back and forth to the compartments with paper bags containing rolls, juice and small portions of jam. I notices a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. Had I not been happily married, and if I had been more awake, maybe I would have noticed that he spent much of his free time lifting weights and working out. But his broad shoulders under a white shirt and his black trousers left no impression on me whatsoever. However, they did add to the scenery.

I was left waiting just long enough to realize that I was in a new place, somewhere I had never been before and the beauty outside the window promised me new horizons, new sights, memories and experiences.

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Walking at dawn – Drumnadrochit

The sun rising in the east. Loch Ness is just behind those hills

A few miles south of Inverness is a lovely, little town called Drumnadrochit. I awoke in my bed at Craigmonie Cottage B&B at 7am after proper 8 hours of sleep. Usually very fond of sleeping and eager to take advantage of any chance I have to sleep in, I chose to act against the nature of my being and snuck out trying not to waken the girls. A sore throat, newfound knowledge on how to shoot in manual mode, a mist covered Scottish valley, and an intense desire of not letting a single minute go to waist while in Scotland, I stumbled out into the cold morning, camera in hand and with birds singing both in the trees around me and in my heart.

I made a 24-hours supermarket we had passed the day before the goal of my walk. Strepsils was what I was looking for and a tea that could help rid me of this cold.

A thin vail of mist lay across the fields. A failed plan to do some shopping in Aberdeen the day before resulted in the cold air biting a little harder than I had expected it to.

The road was dead, except for the occasional passing car, and the town seemed deserted. We had seen many houses for sale the day before, and as I walked around the number increased. The silence of an early Saturday morning increased the feeling of walking through a ghost town. As did scenes reminding me of old British television shows, and thus also of decades passed.  

Flowers decorated the most intriguing places, but as this was early October they did not show the same vitality they must have embedded only weeks earlier. 

One of the natives surprised to see a foreigner on his daily morning stroll

The tiny supermarket became a shocking contrast to my short walk along the road. Open 24 hours and with several customers appearing as I came close to the building the town suddenly seemed to spring to life. The moment though was short lived, as they had all vanished by the time I had payed for my few items. As I exited and turned my back to the shop all signs of life were again gone, except for, ironically, a flock of crows decorating the fence of a deserted football field.

I decided to take a different route back to the B&B. I turned off the main road and continued past the church to a residential area. The houses didn’t look to be very old, still quite a few had signs marking them for sale. I tried to get a little lost, but I did not succeed and simply walked in a large circle back towards my companions, good conversations in good company, and an increased appetite for the awaiting homemade breakfast. 

Sunday morning

I’m up and I have the house all to myself. No one knows for how long, but I enjoy every minute of it. It’s one of those moments that are rare in this household. Son was allowed to stay up a little longer last night, it being saturday and all, and has obviously decided to sleep a little longer today. I woke up  at 7.30, which I never do, Son is always up first to wake me up, usually before 7.30. I checked the time when I first opened my eyes and knew that if I fell asleep again, he would wake me up sometime during the first hour of sleep and I’d be tired for the entire morning. So I got up instead. Went to get two breads that I baked yesterday morning and now have them in the oven. Son will thus wake to the smell of freshly baked bread and also have that for breakfast. How’s that for a sunday morning?

I’ll get back to you on the breads later today, but for now I will sit back, savour the lovely smell spreading in the house and enjoy my huge cup of tea.

The image is from here: Morning photo