March 2017 – and a change of direction.

March 2017 – and a change of direction.

My Letter from Islay appeared in The Island Review

– an account of spring on the island, but I am away from Islay at the moment.

After many months of searching for a house in rural Shropshire we finally took possession of our new abode on 27th March. Needless to say there has been little time to think of anything else.

With an obligation to remain on Islay until our work for The Botanist Gin is completed we only had 10 days to settle in and explore the immediate area. Between now and the end of the gathering season we will make short visits, each one with a car laden with books and other necessities. Until the final move we will be camping out inside. Richard has been erecting bookshelves and I have been planting hundreds of snowdrops in drifts under the small trees. I am hoping that they will love this garden as much as the Islay one. When we moved there 21 years ago there were no snowdrops in the garden and they have multiplied so much that even though I have dug up about a thousand, there don’t appear to be any less.

Islay has been wonderful but we feel the need to be closer to the rest of our family. It is time for new places, new people and new experiences while we are still reasonably fit and well. We knew Shropshire many years ago when our first holidays together were spent in this lovely county. The bungalow is not perfect but we will adjust to it, and as with our Islay home, it is chosen for its location above all other considerations. It is at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac so there is no passing traffic. We have an open aspect and access to many footpaths from the bottom of our garden. We have exchanged our sea view for one of trees and our own small section of river bank.

We even own the fishing rights, but will not be using them. We are more than happy to give our share of small fry to the pair of goosanders which parade up and downstream several times a day.

A bridge over the Raebrook leads to a kissing gate and from there we can walk in several directions. There is no traffic sound to drown out the plentiful birdsong. There are mature trees and hedges of blooming blackthorn, hawthorn in leaf and evergreen holly and yew.

On my first early morning walk I was delighted to hear a great spotted woodpecker drumming, to find a cherry tree in bloom on our riverbank and, just up the hill, to find the most extensive badger sett that I’ve ever seen. Heaped earth covered in discarded bedding and upwards of a dozen entrances indicate that there is quite a family.

As I write, the French windows are open and a green woodpecker is yaffling. It is tempting to venture out to catch a glimpse of him, but today we are steam cleaning the carpets and Richard has just returned with the hired machinery – so it’s back to work as we strive to turn number 46 into our future home.