‘Mountain’ (1982) by Sigurdur Gudmundsson. Culture House, Reykjavik.
Author: robinacrawford
Robin Crawford is an author and illustrator, with a particular interest in the culture and natural heritage of Scotland. His first book, ‘Into the Peatlands: A Journey Through the Moorland Year’, was published in 2018 and longlisted for the Highland Book Prize. ‘Cauld Blasts and Clishmaclavers’ (2020) is a treasury of Scottish Words. His third book ‘The Sound of Many Waters, A Jjourney along the River Tay’ is published in June 2023 by Birlinn. He lives in Auchtermuchty, in Fife.
Obsessed?
Obsessed? I can’t help it if the St.Stephan’s Day biscuits are stacked like slabs of peat.
Merry Christ-moss
Merry Christ-moss. Fruiting sphagnums, Bankhead Moss.
“Rudolf with your nose so bright, won’t you pull my [peat sledge] tonight…”
“Rudolf with your nose so bright, won’t you pull my [peat sledge] tonight…”
Yule logs, Bankhead Moss.
Yule logs, Bankhead Moss.
It’s not just midwinter that’s bleak. June, Isle of Lewis.
It’s not just midwinter that’s bleak. June, Isle of Lewis.
Midwinter sunrise, south maltings, Newton of Falkland.
Midwinter sunrise, south maltings, Newton of Falkland.
Gathering winter fuel. Peat stacked at Freuchie Garden Centre- “Ye cannae beat a peat heat.”
Gathering winter fuel. Peat stacked at Freuchie Garden Centre- “Ye cannae beat a peat heat.”
Underfoot/Siren
Underfoot the peat feels different. It is muddy, squelchy, sucking your at boot, trying to grasp you, draw you in- a beseeching, tempting but deceptive lover that lures with sensuous, smooth caressing. False solidity gradually liquifies and using your own bodyweight sinks you deeper into itself smothering until you are overwhelmed, suffocated. Siren.
Midwinter Mosses
Midwinter mosses.
Robin A Crawford 