Ùrachadh mu Dheireadh 27/11/2018
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TIOTAL
'The Heart is Highland' (2)
EXTERNAL ID
AB_LL_MAISIE_STEVEN_02
DEIT
2010
LINN
2010an
CRUTHADAIR
Maisie Steven
NEACH-FIOSRACHAIDH
Maisie Steven
AITHNEACHADH MAOINE
40981
KEYWORDS
claistinneach
cruthan-tìre litreachais

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'S ann on leabhar 'The Heart is Highland' le Maisie Steaphan, a fuair a chiad fhoillseachadh ann an 2001, a tha an earrann fuaim seo.

'It is hard not to appear to exaggerate in expressing what the snowdrops meant to us. Although we did not actually belong to the farming and crofting community, we were all the same acutely aware of the rhythm of the seasons and their activities - the ploughing, the harrowing, the sowing, the potato planting, the various harvests - but, especially, we were involved in the productions of our own large and fertile garden. Not that we could have been classed as keen gardeners! Indeed, I wonder whether teaching children skills like pricking out small plants, or even pruning, would not arouse their interest more than the mundane weeding and clearing of stones which fell to our lot? But the snowdrops... nothing, we felt, could ever be as exciting as those first brave green shoots pushing up, to remind us that spring was on the way. Sometimes we would search to find them under several inches of snow, and that was even more of a thrill. And we would always feel thankful that at least they had a warm blanket to cover them.

Having renewed acquaintance with the earth after a longish lapse of time, we would be impatient to use the spring-like day to explore further. Away we would go up the field that went steeply up from our back fence (always, though, having first asked permission; we were never allowed simply to disappear). At the top of the field was a wood, a magical place. But on this occasion we might well by-pass it to climb to the top of the second field, which took us high enough to look down upon the whole wide glen spread below, the fields that yellowish green so reminiscent of January days. What we wanted to see most of all was the loch; from our east-facing windows we could barely catch a glimpse of it; but now it could be clearly seen, spread out like a dark shining mirror. We could pick out the two rivers, the Enerick and the Coilty, flowing through the villages of Drumnadrochit and Lewiston respectively, like black snakes as they appeared from time to time among the trees, making their way to Loch Ness. A stand of sombre-looking yews marked the glen's ancient burial-place. Dominating the view to the south-east was the pudding-shaped bulk of Meallfourvonie, more than 2,000 feet high. We would plan the expedition we would have one day, to climb it and perhaps see the whole of Loch Ness from there... sadly, it was to be at least 20 years before it happened.'

Airson stiùireadh mu bhith a’ cleachdadh ìomhaighean agus susbaint eile, faicibh duilleag ‘Na Cumhaichean air Fad.’
’S e companaidh cuibhrichte fo bharantas clàraichte ann an Alba Àir. SC407011 agus carthannas clàraichte Albannach Àir. SC042593 a th’ ann an High Life na Gàidhealtachd.
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'The Heart is Highland' (2)

2010an

claistinneach; cruthan-tìre litreachais

Maisie Steven

Literary Landscapes: Maisie Steven

'S ann on leabhar 'The Heart is Highland' le Maisie Steaphan, a fuair a chiad fhoillseachadh ann an 2001, a tha an earrann fuaim seo.<br /> <br /> 'It is hard not to appear to exaggerate in expressing what the snowdrops meant to us. Although we did not actually belong to the farming and crofting community, we were all the same acutely aware of the rhythm of the seasons and their activities - the ploughing, the harrowing, the sowing, the potato planting, the various harvests - but, especially, we were involved in the productions of our own large and fertile garden. Not that we could have been classed as keen gardeners! Indeed, I wonder whether teaching children skills like pricking out small plants, or even pruning, would not arouse their interest more than the mundane weeding and clearing of stones which fell to our lot? But the snowdrops... nothing, we felt, could ever be as exciting as those first brave green shoots pushing up, to remind us that spring was on the way. Sometimes we would search to find them under several inches of snow, and that was even more of a thrill. And we would always feel thankful that at least they had a warm blanket to cover them.<br /> <br /> Having renewed acquaintance with the earth after a longish lapse of time, we would be impatient to use the spring-like day to explore further. Away we would go up the field that went steeply up from our back fence (always, though, having first asked permission; we were never allowed simply to disappear). At the top of the field was a wood, a magical place. But on this occasion we might well by-pass it to climb to the top of the second field, which took us high enough to look down upon the whole wide glen spread below, the fields that yellowish green so reminiscent of January days. What we wanted to see most of all was the loch; from our east-facing windows we could barely catch a glimpse of it; but now it could be clearly seen, spread out like a dark shining mirror. We could pick out the two rivers, the Enerick and the Coilty, flowing through the villages of Drumnadrochit and Lewiston respectively, like black snakes as they appeared from time to time among the trees, making their way to Loch Ness. A stand of sombre-looking yews marked the glen's ancient burial-place. Dominating the view to the south-east was the pudding-shaped bulk of Meallfourvonie, more than 2,000 feet high. We would plan the expedition we would have one day, to climb it and perhaps see the whole of Loch Ness from there... sadly, it was to be at least 20 years before it happened.'