Machrie Moor.
Hmmm.
Same as last year, I've been both anticipating writing about it but also dreading it.
Except this time part of the dread came from the fact it was my last day on Arran.
I wanted to share it with you all so much, but I knew that when I did my trip was pretty much over. Okay it was over last Thursday, but I've been reliving it since then
I also felt the post should be in the right place, because what I was doing and how I was feeling does have a bearing on the actual day. Nothing dramatic, just that Arran had a chance to work its magic on me.
One thing I missed on this trip was being able to properly explore.
It was just too wet, and had been too wet for too long.
I'd pictured walking through the woods again, it's part of what I hold in my heart about Arran now. Limey counselled against it but she didn't even need to this time. I knew it would have been folly.
This was completely borne out by our Machrie Moor experience.
It was only mildly boggy, and only in parts, but it made it quite clear to me just what the woods would have been like. Much muddier and much worserer and therefore with no peace at all.
For anyone reading this who doesn't know, we lost a Dwellar last year.
Her name is Claudette and her monikers here were Brianna and Trilby.
Limey and I went to Machrie Moor on the Isle of Arran, Scotland to remember her in the same week her funeral was held in the US.
Many people here loved her and I am one of them.
Just thought I'd make it inclusive.