Winter's first exhale

Am I ready to say goodbye?

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Please subscribe to support my work and read more of my stories. You can also find me on YouTube and shop my Etsy store and sustainable Teemill clothing.

Its the 31st of October and winter has released its first breath. Covering my Scottish Highland home in a dense frost. It has begun.

This was the first proper frost of the season. Not the gentle dew of early autumn that has blanketed the garden for weeks. Frost is harder. Uncompromising. The epitome of a Scottish winter.

We’ve had the heater on since the dark early hours. The windows were damp with condensation, illuminated by the clear moonlight of 6am. My first walk of the day was in darkness. Skye is not a dog to wait for the sun to rise and is far too privileged to do her business in the garden. So we shuffled around our local lochan with my breath coming in broken clouds.

A couple of hours later, we were off again. This time the land was bathed in blue skies. The October sun has lost its urgency of summer. It hints at heat with orange flickers dancing between trees. Never rising far. Always close. Like an old friend.

I was overjoyed to be out in a thick jumper again. I tend to peak too soon with knitwear. Always impatient, I would defiantly wear them as soon as it was ‘officially’ autumn. Only to overheat minutes into walking and end up lugging numerous layers home.

Every year, I think this autumn is the most beautiful. This year was no exception. The landscape was ablaze with colour. Beauty so vibrant it will knock the breath from your numb lips. We revelled in the crisp chorus of frost encrusted leaves. The meeting of two seasons.

Autumn is full of magic. The constant dance of falling leaves hints at mythical creatures hiding in the shadows. We were always told as children that the toadstools that shone with sunlight were fairy homes. I have to admit, I still cannot resist checking…

We weaved through squinting beams of sunlight and deep shadows that held the cold bite of winter. Following well worn muddy trails with sunken footsteps - an imprint of the past.

One of my favourite delights of this season is the geese. The comforting music of their voices crash over me like waves. I always wait for them. Craning my neck to absorb the thud of their wingbeats as they glide past. I can almost feel the tickle of feathers on my upturned face.

It was on the worst morning of my life that the geese saved me. Even in my desperate grief, on a bitterly cold February morning, they sparked hope. Crossing the sky in their familiar rhythm. Reminding me that I wasn’t alone.

Today was a day of beauty but also one of grief. By tomorrow, October will be past.

For me, October is autumn. September is an indecisive month, where summer is still an ever present threat, and winter arrives suddenly in the Highlands, devouring November in a moment. It is only October that I can fully relish my favourite season.

As we return home, I whisper farewell to this magical month. I cannot wait to reunite with it again next year…