An early morning on a Scottish hill
A wilder kind of morning routine
Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Subscribe for free to enjoy occasional posts from me. Or, better yet, join our slow community of kindred spirits to unlock ALL my content, including exclusive writing, videos and resources, to help you live the life you REALLY crave. We’d love you to join us for a cuppa…
Its 7.30am and I’m tucked into a rocky crevice at the top of a hill, watching the steam gently swirl from my flask.
Despite the early start, its already warm. After a cold and wet April, May seems to have thrust us straight into summer. I relish the coolness of the rock against my legs and back. My eyelids rest behind my sunglasses as I release a deep exhale.
I needed this.
It was a slow hike up the hill this morning. Neither of us were prepared for this sudden increase in temperature. Skye still has her winter coat, so we take multiple breaks, seeking shade where we can.
The muted breeze cools the sweat that’s already cascading over my back and under my armpits as I fill Skye’s portable bowl with water. I’m relieved I thought to bring another bottle for her, although my rucksack feels especially heavy with this extra weight. My flask of tea was, of course, obligatory.
Its been a few weeks since we were here last and the amount of blaeberry that has emerged in the meantime is astounding. Bright and fresh in its spring plumage, the hill is completely encased in green.
We are suddenly surrounded by the gentle hum of bees, attracted to this flush of new growth.
Blaeberry is often used as an indicator for biodiversity in pine forests. Alongside being utilised by pollinators, its leaves and berries are highly palatable to a wide range of species, including the the rare and iconic capercaillie, whose adults feed on it all year round and the chicks will happily pluck caterpillars from it during the summer.
The bee frenzy begins to die down as the incline sharpens and the trees thin. Here these plants become less abundant, with patches of sun-loving heather and hardy cowberry taking their place.
This is the section that I never look forward to. With a sharp incline, full of false summits, it always feels exhausting.
About half way up I am rewarded for my effort as I hear my second cuckoo of the year, which is always something to celebrate. Numbers of this iconic spring migrant have crashed in recent years, due to a combination of habitat destruction and hunting during their migration routes, meaning they are now red-listed in the UK and recognised as globally threatened.
Hearing their soft call feels as reassuring as a heartbeat. They are still here. Spring just couldn’t happen without them.
After much exertion, we reach the summit and I am able to settle into admiring the staggering beauty of my Scottish home.
We meander amongst the heather and bog pools, admiring the stone cairns that glow warmly under the sun. The air is motionless with not a murmur of a breeze. I slowly trace patterns on the soft cotton of my t-shirt, stretching my bare arms above me, reaching for the pale blue sky.
I am overcome with a sense of weightlessness that only happens when I’m amongst nature. Everything feels smaller from up here. I know that eventually I will return and my daily life will resume.
But for now, there is only wilderness and I intend to relish every moment of it…
This post is an extract from my nature diary. You can learn about my nature writing practise HERE.
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A spring adventure in a Scottish forest
Wow,that’s was a gorgeous description.I could really visualise everything! Thank you for such an interesting and evocative treat.
Gorgeous writing! I felt as if I was transported there marveling in that glorious nature with you. I love googling the animals and flowers you mention in your pieces. It’s a delight to learn about the many different creatures and plants in the world!