“It was very heavy rain, and I was wet to the skin, Captain M’Lean had but a poor temporary house, or rather hut; however, it was a very good haven to us. There was a blazing peat-fire, and Mrs M’Lean, daughter of the minister of the parish, got us tea.”
Monday 4th October, James Boswell, ‘The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson, LL.D.’

In the bay where the peaty waters of the moor meet the salt waters of the Atlantic two grey seal heads plop quietly to the brackish surface. They watch us inquisitively. Angie sits on a rock watching back, a little mermaid. Selkie…

Contours of the #peatlands

…where the peaty waters of the moor meet the salt of the sea.

“…We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame…”

#peatlands

‘The Unsinkable’, a boat out of water on the drained moor, slowly succumbing to the waves of watery mosses and sphagnums. Rossie, Fife.

Woven bog grasses from Scotland’s #peatlands.

 

…tea always helps.