Striking gold

We have pretty much caught up with all the essential spring work. The crops are in and we wait for good weather to make them grow.

I thought we might try a second attempt at getting out for the day without being stopped by wind turbine lorries so we set off on a different route and arrived in the very heart of Perthshire.

The landscape here is stunning, dramatic mountains, gentle rivers, abundant with wildlife and best of all, the sun was shining. Grass looked plump and green plus the trees have woken from the long winter dormancy and were shyly showing off their new leaves.

It makes your heart fill with sheer joy to see the beauty in the land.

We took a picnic and went panning for gold. Everyone would get soaked and filthy but it would not matter, besides, we may strike lucky and find a huge nugget (then retire!).
There are the tiniest flecks of gold in the river silt. Really miniscule. (about the size of a full stop).
If I took a hankering for a gold filling like a pirate has then it would take years of picking up the tiny flecks. My teeth may all fall out by the time I saved enough flecks for my pirate look.

The Farmer dozed in the sun while we splashed in the water. He is so tired but I think sleep and rest is one of the best tonics available.
We found lots of iron pyrite which twinkled in the sun, giving false illusions of having found treasure.

The birch trees, which are truly magical, belied their name of 'silver birch' and shone with a hint of gold.

The land was providing us with a wealth beyond money. What price to relax in the sun while the river washed away worries, soothed sore feet, kept the children happy (and cleaned a whiffy dog).
The land is slow and ancient, practically untouched since glacial times. There are areas without houses or even grazing animals, only acres of heather, trees and stillness.
Your heart slows to the beat of the earth. Very healing.

Later, once we realised that we had not realised a fortune in gold flakes, we headed home.

We headed for the cowshed where the remaining herd of pregnant cattle remain. They were content and lying down, enjoying the warm breeze wafting through the shed.
The sun had dipped a little and the shed was bathed with a warm light.

A tiny new born calf lay in the straw.

I felt so relieved that the mother cow had delivered without any problems and all was well. She stood protecting her calf and lowed very softly to it.
The Farmer was delighted.

Our Good Friday had given us so much.

More priceless than gold.