I've been gazing at my Roberton walks booklet for some time, but today, on his way to work, Charlie dropped me outside Forman Hall to navigate surrounding footpaths along Borthwick water that would eventually return me to the farmhouse.
Roberton's church, seemingly rarely open.
This hue of green from this glen of the Borthwick valley.
Striking definition of these berries, pale in the swirling grey waters of the Borthwick.
Dark clouds loomed heavy over a fast dissipating bright morning.
Extremity of weather nay bother Cheviot sheep that graze here.
A fire was lit at Park hill farm, but the wind blew the smoke in a different direction. The "strangers" lit fires in my oncoming direction; this has connotations to tantric Buddhism.
Roberton's church, seemingly rarely open.
This hue of green from this glen of the Borthwick valley.
Striking definition of these berries, pale in the swirling grey waters of the Borthwick.
Dark clouds loomed heavy over a fast dissipating bright morning.
Extremity of weather nay bother Cheviot sheep that graze here.
A fire was lit at Park hill farm, but the wind blew the smoke in a different direction. The "strangers" lit fires in my oncoming direction; this has connotations to tantric Buddhism.
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Snow
Snow arrived yesterday, Charlie took me out for a drive along the road to Ashkirk.
Holy Isle
Hawick
Lift into Hawick, for a walk.
Talla
Everyday is silent and grey. Everyday is like Sunday. St Mary's Loch.