The Cottage - Day 18
It’s as if God is taunting me. The insanity of leaving such a wondrous world.
There are still no clouds when the dog persuades me down from my perch in the morning. A pure blue sky with nothing but the hint of a long gone aeroplane, so high that we never heard it.
A perfect summer’s day. In late September. I can see what looks like two ferries at once, one that left the mainland, and one that left the far island. One takes a line closer to the near islands so when they pass, in the region of the smallest island, they are not close.
I count the slices of bread left. They will last 2 more days after today. Dog-dog sits glumly at the window on the world, so I give her some of my toast. She ignores it but not enough that I can take it back.
Yes it’s a perfect day. For walking, for hiking, for cycling, and most of all, for painting. I leave in 2 days though, so I’ll be packing.
I cover the dog and within minutes she is snoring.
Something is towing a trailer somewhere. The little white van comes into view. It is towing a trailer and stops at the crest of the hill a mile away towards the main road. The driver and his dog get out. I think the man in the white van is my sheep farmer.
I hear a wren in the bottom of a fuchsia bush so watch it closely until I see him peep out. A mile away I watch a farmer stand in a field with his sheep being moved by his dog. It’s a brilliant sight against a background of a few dark trees, the deep blue of the sea, and cliffs of the far island.
As I empty my mug and chew on some tea leaves, I want to go back inside and get another mug but the sun on the back of my neck and arms feels too good to move.
Behind me small white fluffy clouds start to come over the mountains.
We walk. In sandals. To the gate. But the dog wants to go further. So we go a bit beyond. Well okay then, to the crest of the hill a mile away. The dog however wants to go to the gap. I don’t know why I don’t but I don’t. The dog pulls firmly and will not budge. We have a stand off for 5 minutes.
-You can choose tomorrow, but today in my sandals I want to go this way.
Out on the bog a lone hooded crow looks for carrion. Beyond on the sea I notice something much larger than the ferry and much nearer than the ghosty grey ship I’ve seen a couple of other times. This being the first time I have walked with my monocular I have a look. Yes it’s big. And it has something attached to the side of it. And I think it’s headed for the far island.
The dog and I look at each other as we hear what sounds like a lawnmower going 40 miles an hour. Or a chainsaw. Turns out it is a lawnmower going 40 miles an hour. A young man on a quad appears back by the cottage, and turns speeding towards the gap. For a couple of minutes we hear no birds.
In the woods beside us a small yellowish bird flits from conifer to conifer. I get closer. Yellow cheeks? It must be a young Blue Tit not yet moulted for the winter.
At the hill we meet the red jackets that are the walking women as we reach the crest by the sheep. Rex is with the women again and everything is cordial between all species. The womens’ jackets are tied around their waists because of the sun, but their t-shirts are red so we know they are still the red walking women.
As expected the dog doesn’t want to turn around and go home. Roads that loop in smaller distances than 5 miles would be useful. I assert myself but she pulls her head out of her collar. If that had happened yesterday on the main road she would now be dead. Feeling guilty she lets me put it back on and softly we talk through our differences before walking back to the cottage.
2 miles away under the mountain pass I see a small group of cattle walk down a slope. Behind them is a shape that I’d guess is a rock but for the fact that all the other rocks are shades of grey and this shape is a bright cream. I wonder if it’s a goat. So with my ankle I nudge the dog.
-Hey Dog-dog!
-Uh-huh?
-What’s that coming over the hill?
-Is it a monster?
The clouds come from the mountains now in one uniform thick grey blanket. But they move slow and the sun moves just ahead of them in the blue sky so that we all remain in sunshine. It’s an equilibrium I’m sure must have a name.
As we reach the cottage the red walking women pass through the gap ahead, and a skylark lifts out of the bog by the gate. No cars passed us on this walk.
The ship, which is probably a very large fishing vessel and I don’t know when you stop calling something a boat and move to ship, is anchored in the harbour of the far island. Nearer to the mainland a very small boat is out from the beach close to the near island. The deep blueness of the sea shows me easily a white dot beyond the island, and far beyond the route of the ferry. I follow it until it is no more, either sunk or halfway to Greenland.
And then, for the first time since I’ve been here, I see a fishing boat where I have seen no boats. It moves across in front of me towards the near island. If I had a camera with a very long lense I would take a fabulous photograph of it moving in front of the middle island, the cliffs and ruined chapel just behind it.
As I move cardboard boxes around, outside the clouds have finally won, with the dunes and the beach being the last holdouts for sunshine.
I see 2 horses out on the bog road. Unlike in Dublin their riders have headgear on.
By 6 O’clock it’s a light blanket of grey that covers everywhere but a narrow band of light along the horizon. The islands have softened to increasingly paler shades of grey the further away they are. The sea is a midnight blue and looks very striking contrasted with the brightness of the sky towards the setting sun. The cone-shaped mountain behind which the sun will eventually set, is a burgundy. It stands in front of the narrow strip of light sky and just beneath the dark cloud blanket that is fringed with a gold edge. The headland below it is a muted olive green.
As the lighthouse flashes out of the blue-greyness I see the large vessel leave the harbour of the far island and think that I should be painting. Then I return to packing.
Because my frying pan is just 4 inches wide, I cook my 3 rashers one at a time. In fairness I don’t have a great need to put 3 full rashers into my mouth in one single go.
There is one cloud moving faster than all the others. It’s pixelated. Ah, that’ll be the starlings getting ready for bed.
The dog comes in to get me. Out in the porch she has dropped something behind the chest she sits on. As I move it I see the lights of an aeroplane out over the village. They are under the cloud cover so it must be a small plane. It turns and for a moment its lights glare at me, as if it were a car and I a deer. I wasn’t expecting such personal air traffic while living in the mountains.
Out at sea the large fishing vessel never went far from the harbour. In the dark its lights make it look like a small cluster of cottages.
A couple of hours later I stand outside under the stars with Dog-dog. More lights on the water. It’s another floating clachan, this one heading out towards the east of the far island, a space where I’ve seen nothing ever go.
Read the Next Day at the cottage
Read the Previous Day at the cottage
List of all the Days at the Cottage
More from The Cottage:
• Day 1 at The Cottage
• Photos of The Cottage
• 12 Photos of Scenery Around The Cottage
• 12 Photos not all Mountains and Islands
Eolaí gan Fhéile:
Eolai… do the ‘women in red’ always wear that
colour when walking because of the sometimes
wildly speeding cars, or is there some other
reason? Did you get a chance to ask them?
Just curious.
I keep waiting for the Deus ex machina to kick in here.
In this case I want Euripides to lower in the Greek
carpenters on the crane instead of the usual ‘Gods’.
When you reported the sighting of the ‘little white
van with the trailer’ I held my breath for a moment
and found myself wanting it to be full of shingles
and carpenters coming to ’save the day’.
Is everyone SURE there is no diplomacy that could
kick in here? I mean… the roof HAS to be fixed
SOMETIME. I don’t care what the guy thinks or
says… NO TENANT is going to put with that
for long. I just want the reality to sink in for
him ( the landlord ) NOW instead of LATER.
I’m still sitting here thinking that if you just
fired up a PayPal account and just had the
opportunity to take care of this for him, that
it wouldn’t cost anyone a dime. The ‘donations’
would probably magically appear. I’d be the
first one there with a contribution. Others
would follow. Am I dreaming?
Why are you there and I here?
FYI, the difference between “boats” and “ships” can be loosely defined that “ships” are generally large enough to carry “boats.”
In reverse order:
Pete - Thanks, though I’ll admit to being tempted to think of exceptions!
Jason - But where am I? And where are you?
Kevin - I haven’t asked the women in red and think it would take a lot of commonly consumed alcohol for me to ever ask such a question. My belief is simply that it is coincidental.
On the roof I’m not really up for saying very much right now, beyond thank you very much, but you should consider the fact that the landlord has offered to refund the rent I have paid rather than put those funds to fixing the roof. I couldn’t imagine any campaign raising as much as the refund offered.