Groundings

reading (and re-reading) landscapes of childhood

Everything I write and read circles me back to the shape, feel and texture of the place where I grew up in the North-East of Scotland.

Its lichens, stones and birches.

The river that led to the not-too-distant Cairngorm Mountains.

The ghostly remnants of an old railway line long demolished.

The way light never really hit the line of the bottom field.

The otters.