where did all these leaves come from

The last time I posted I was waxing lyrical about the golden leaves on the trees and then suddenly the entire content of our Elm leaped off the tree and are now littering our driveway. Now, these leaves are a brilliant composting material if you can wait a year or two and if you can catch and contain them. Composting is close to my heart and leaf compost is some of the best you can get. But, as the saying goes, great things come to those who wait. Here at the Beggshill Bothy there are several compost bins dotted around the land, but I have one in the barn. Empty. Waiting. This is the special one, the leaf composter. Its going to get an out of the way spot, where it'll get the sun and its just for leaves. Once its full, I'll ignore it for a year or two and then hopefully I'll have lovely, brown, rich leaf compost for the garden.
Here at the Beggshill Bothy, we are not adverse to modern technology. Although it is a quiet little place we are now have a nice new road surface courtesy of the council and broadband courtesy of BT. So to celebrate, I've branched out in and recorded my first podcast. Don't tell any one.

pete

Cold winds and golden leaves

well, it had to happen. Summer (Ha! what summer) has officially gone and the cold Autumn winds and dark nights are here. This morning when I woke I checked the themometer and it said 1.5°C. That is definitely not aiding me in my battle to get out of bed.
But I actually like this time of year. I like watching the turning of the leaves, I don't much like picking them up once they've fallen, but I enjoy the colour change. I also like the dark nights. This time of year is when I start to marvel at the number of stars in the sky. I am very fortunate to live up here in the wilds of Aberdeenshire. There is very little man made light in our area. (There is one street lamp and if you ever come and stay with us, I'll point it out. We're quite proud of it.) This darkness means that on a clear night we can see millions upon mill lions of stars. I'm not exaggerating. You'll be staggered at the number. One day, I'll take a picture and you'll be amazed too. Also autumn and winter is the best time to see the aurora borealis or Northern Lights. Its not often seen, but there are enough to make it worth having a quick peek out at night. If you don't see the aurora, you might see shooting stars or hear the owl and the bark of the roe deer.
Dark nights aren't that bad, especially if you have a warm house to retreat to when it gets too cold.

pete

Mysterious disappearances and time travel

Being a country boy at heart, I've always considered myself to be in tune with nature. So it was with shock this morning that I noticed there were no swallows around. And thinking back, I don't remember seeing any for a while. I wracked my brain and I can remember seeing them grouping on the telephone wires a week or so ago, but now, nothing. In the same way that the return of the swallows in April signifies spring, their disappearance as they migrate to warmer climes in southern Africa signifies the onset of Autumn and Winter. But usually we have a couple of weeks of them gathering in larger and larger groups, fattening themselves up on insects in readiness for the long journey south. Its always a nice, if slightly noisy sight to see 10-20 swallows sitting on the wire outside our bedroom window. People often try to suggest that birds have a sixth sense that allows them to predict the future and so this sudden migration south heralds a terrible winter, especially as all the Rowan berrys are already ripe. I don't believe that. Its more likely that the strange summer weather has effected insect numbers and they've headed off early in a hope that they can fatten up on the journey.
The other shock to the system is that its September! Where has the year gone? This is our first year of business at the Beggshill Bothy and its already 2/3rds gone. Yet again, the list of things I'd achieve this year, new horse shelter, better garden, log shed by the back door has not gone down. No worries. There is always next year. But if the swallows are right and its a bad winter, I'll kick myself for not doing the log shed by the back door. The barn is a long way from the house in a snowstorm. But, I'm being silly, swallows don't predict the weather.....