Warm blustery winds from the west bring a breath of autumn over the hillside. Sun, showers, long grass, wet feet. I get a ride in the tractor up to the top field where Alistair and Raymond dismantle a crow trap. There are no crows. Flocks of spuggies (sparrows), reddening berries, plums and conkers. A field mushroom too, the first I’ve seen this year. Raymond tells me about the old drovers roads, now all but lost save for a couple of places that once connected Kingsbarns to the palace of Falkland away to the west. They start to replace rotten fence posts. In the worst of the showers I sit in the workshop and draw the paraphernalia that accompanies farms – cupboards of tools, implements, bit of things….. The sun streams through skylights in the byre giving the scene an almost biblical look as it falls on the straw strewn floor. I walk back to the village following the burn down the hill. Summer is just beginning to fade, the land here is slowing and softening and ripening. I look forward to lighting the fire and blackberry and apple crumble and feel excitement about working outdoors in the coming months. There’s a skip to my step.
dominique cameron 