TUESDAY, APRIL 30
THE STREET WHERE WE LIVE – FOR NOW
Our new street is called Pentland Gardens. Just a few houses away, a small passage opens onto an open field, cut through with thick trails made by a large lawn mower, and to a path that curves up hill. In spring, wild flowers break the sea of tall emerald grass. It’s here that Duffy and I walked in the mornings.
But in the afternoon, we continued on the path toward Pentland Hills, crossing a couple of neighboring streets, and passing behind a one-story primary school and a wooded, park.
Underfoot, the ground was spongy, giving way to the pressure of our weight. The air was soft and fresh. The temperature was just cool enough to make it perfect for a long walk.
DUFFY, THE DOG!
Duffy stayed off lead the whole way, even when we crossed an overpass, walked through neighborhoods, and along the narrow, rocky street leading to the Golf Course restaurant and lounge. She is so well behaved. She waits to cross the street, walks on the sidewalk or grassy mounds along edge of streets. She was constantly checking to see that we are behind her.
I like that she has her freedom. I was raised with dogs and a father who believed they should run free…much to the consternation of some neighbors. But we never trained our dogs.
As usual, Chloe and I weren’t sure we were going the right way toward Pentland Hills but in the end our walk turned out just right.
PENTLAND HILLS
We climbed a hill, passing a couple with walking sticks…that’s how steep it is. The walk was consistently uphill, and it become precipitously steeper as we continued.
Private, occupied historic homes, white with thatched roofs, single at first, and then a small village of ten to fifteen, are beside the trail at the beginning.
After passing along the edge of a golf course, we came to a fence with a warning sign. We might run into highland cows (“they are safe if you don’t bother them”), or herds of grazing sheep (“keep dogs on short leads as they are calving in the spring months”) or nesting birds.
Cow manure dotted the paths but we saw no sign of the hairy Highland cows. Nor did we see any sheep, though they may have been on the back side of the mountain. We did see horses though, some of them a brilliant, near albino white. They looked magical like unicorns. Such a different landscape from southern England, where horses graze in flat fields.
As we climbed, we could see the surrounding towns and all the way back to downtown Edinburgh and the water.
Brilliant yellow gorse flowers covered the hills in bunches and sometimes whole swathes. They are called “the yellowest of flowers,” and there is no doubt in my mind this description is accurate.
A SKI RESORT???
After eating our peanut butter and jam sandwiches, and walking further along the path, we came upon the strangest sight — a tiny ski resort. Plastic mesh was placed on the ground, a chairlift overhead, and kids skiing down the plastic snow. I heard one of them yell to a friend, “this is so boring.”
We skirted the bottom of Pentland Hills on our return to the Golf Club restaurant where we sat outside with Duffy and had coffee and tea. Duffy found a bone. Chloe found a white Highland cow.
I am madly in love with this landscape — the hilliness, the jutting rocks, the combination of solid stone homes on curving land, the density of the flora, the slight edge of coolness in the air, the threat of storms as clouds roll quickly overhead constantly changing the light quality.
A three-hour walk in this landscape…just what we needed to get our feet back on the ground.
