Into the Highlands

The following is a stream of consciousness / observatory piece written on a train ride from Edinburgh to Inverness, in the Scottish Highlands. 





I see a sea of sheep and a hare and a hawk, though not in the same vicinity as one tends to avoid the other. 


The clouds cast a dastardly shadow upon the hills, bringing different shades of green and brown to life. 


Now the hills are grey and purple with splotches of dark green.  The grey is the rock edges, bare of life. The purple is the mass of tightly packed flowers, lavenders I think, with the odd iconic thistle here and there. The occasional green are the pines, firs and other trees that I haven't bothered to learn the names of. Occasional has now turned to eternal as these trees that I hadn't bothered to remember have taken over the landscape. They are all I can see. I should probably try to remember some of their names, I don't want to be rude. 


Pine; fir; birch; crap, which one are you?

That ones a weeping willow, but all the rest look kinda the same. It doesn't matter now anyway, because the have stepped aside and we are traveling through a vast field now. 


Little creeks and those spiky plants you find right next to little creeks define the boundaries of these fields. 


rugby field. horses. power plant. fences ( electric?). 


The creeks have joined into a small river that runs parallel to the...Wow! A hawk-eagle thing just swooped in front of the train window. 


Now we are passing a big lake. The sun shines off it like a mirror and the little wooden boat tied up with the scenic wooded mountain in the background makes it look all very picturesque. 



I really like this music.