It was getting late in the day, and Algy had not yet reached his destination for the night, but the sky looked so interesting that he felt he really must pause for a while, and watch the clouds.
Algy set off on his adventure, but he hadn’t got very far before he felt in need of a wee rest, so he found a grassy patch of bluebells by the loch where he could enjoy one of himmelueberhamburg’s “on the way moments” :) The birds were singing and the sun was almost shining, and Algy felt pleased to be out and about.
Algy will be out and about adventuring in Argyll and Glencoe for the next few days, and his assistant will only occasionally have Wi-FI access (if at all!).
He is hoping to be able to post his daily adventures for you to see, but it may not always be possible. Unfortunately he will not be able to keep up with all your own wonderful images during this time, so please don’t feel that he has forgotten you, because that is certainly not the case :)
Algy would especially like to welcome and thank all the new followers who have discovered and “liked” his Adventures over the past couple of weeks. He is very happy indeed to meet you :)
Algy will be back home at the weekend, and will catch up with you all then, if not before. Have a wonderful week, and keep smiling xx
The West Highland spring was not at its best this year. It looked as though the dense mist would not lift all day, so Algy decided that the only thing to do was to settle down to some serious reading. He tucked himself tight in under a sheltering rock, as the sheep do in bad weather, and hoped that his book wouldn’t get too damp. In the distance he could hear a ship calling in the foggy Sound. Algy wasn’t lost, but everything else was, so he was reminded of Carl Sandburg’s poem:
Desolate and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor’s breast
And the harbor’s eyes.
Algy had heard that Yahoo will buy Tumblr, and he was very worried. Is the Tumblr community being sold down the river? Will this mean that he will lose touch with all his lovely new Tumblr friends, and maybe have to discontinue his Adventures on Tumblr? Poor Algy felt very glum. He sat silently in his darkened tree, with just a few rays of light shining out from the clouds behind him, and wondered what the future held for him and all his Tumblr friends. He thought of a poem by the contemporary American poet John Taggart:
Darkened not completely dark let us walk in the darkened field
trees in the field outlined against that which is less dark
under the trees are bushes with orange berries dark green leaves
not poetry’s mixing of yellow light blue sky darker than that
darkness of the leaves a modulation of the accumulated darkness
orange of the berries another modulation spreading out toward us
it is like the reverberation of a bell rung three times
like the call of a voice the call of a voice that is not there.
[Algy is quoting from Orange Berries Dark Green Leaves by John Taggart.]
From the middle of May until July each year, on nights when the weather is fine, the sky glows late into the evening, far out to sea in the north-west. Then the red deer come to browse furtively on the crofts in the gloaming, and Algy sits in his tree in the strange light, and talks to them.
This year another bird is talking to them too, and his rasping call carries all across the land in the still of the evening …
Listen to the sound that Algy heard as he was conversing with the deer.
Algy could feel that the weather was changing. It really was spring at last, and to prove it, bluebells were suddenly popping up everywhere. Algy adores bluebells, so he spent a happy hour among them in the dappled shade, listening to the first two swallows chattering to each other as they swooped around overhead.
A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.
[Algy is quoting from the poem The Bluebell by Anne Brontë.]
Sometimes, on a fine day, Algy likes to visit one of the local tourist spots for fun. As he has already seen the view many times, Algy finds himself a good perch in a tree looking out the other way, and watches the visitors instead.
Algy especially hopes that this pretty scene will bring a little bit of sunshine and a smile into the lives of his friends who are suffering from depression. He wishes you all a happier day today xx
At this time of year the nights are light, and Algy finds it difficult to sleep. There was a beautiful crescent moon sinking down behind the ridge, so Algy found a perch in his tree and watched the moon set. It reminded him of a haiku by Yosa Buson, the Japanese master:
The short night –
Broken, in the shallows,
A crescent moon.
The weather was a wee bit disappointing for the middle of May. Algy sat glumly in his tree, riding the branches in the wind, and wondering whether it would ever get a chance to warm up before the autumn and winter closed in again.
Algy was sitting quietly in the tangled mass of honeysuckle, thinking idly about life, the universe, and nothing much at all, when a huge black cloud turned everything dark and there was a sudden shower of hail. As the shower moved rapidly towards the hill, a dazzling hailbow appeared, with sheets of hail still falling around it. Algy thought it was perhaps the brightest rainbow he had ever seen, but it only lasted for a few minutes and then vanished …
In the spring the sun sets in the north-west, over the Sea of the Hebrides and the Small Isles, so on fine evenings Algy loves to sit quietly in his tree and watch the glowing colours on the horizon.
The very next evening, the sun chose a different place to create special effects, lighting up the same ridge which it had left ignored in deep shadow the day before. The beautiful but fleeting fiery effect lasted only for a few moments and was gone. Algy felt that such an ephemeral effect deserved a haiku, so he chose this one by the 18th century Japanese master Issa, and thought especially of his Japanese Tumblr friends on the other side of the world:
the mountain sunset
within my grasp…
The low evening sun streaming through the clouds created a pocket of golden light on the hillside by Algy’s home, so he moved across from his rock, to a perch on the edge of the old quarry. The barren ridge behind him was still in deep shade, with the black clouds brushing its edges with swirling mists. Algy knew that the sun would soon be gone again, so he soaked up as much of it as he could.