Full Moon In June

06/23/2005

The June full moon that last year brought storms and rain; and in 2003 a spell of warm, dry summer, has this year decided on 50/50. From Midnight to midday, it is wet and windy, from Midday to midnight it is warm, clear and dry. Midges only bother us around sunset when any breeze seems to drop for a while. In general, country life seems to be very productive, even if it is a bit annoying to see pics of farmers in Suffolk making hay while our grass is six inches high and very green; however, I do feel that our slower pace promotes wildlife, particularly ground nesting and smaller birds. These chaps are coming back into view now that the first chicks are fledged; we see all the finches, including Bull Finches, Siskines, Thrushes, Blackbirds, Wheatears, Stonechats, snipe and the Skylarks still sing their hearts out when the sun shines. A visitor reported seeing a pair of Divers on the River Trollaigh when he was on the look out for Dippers and Plovers, which are common here. This sighting surprised me as I have never seen them except on isolated hill lochs, but it is possible. We now have good stags in view morning and night, and in the thickets foxes and roe deer. I hope the foxes do not get too cocky, as although we have suffered losses of both chickens and lambs they have been manageable. I have been able to join another seaweed harvest that started in appalling weather, forcing a stop for shelter tucked into the very south end of Luing. I was a little alarmed at the rate that large reefs were springing up around us as the tide fell, however the Skipper’s response was a withering look and to flick the off switch on the depth sounder. By the afternoon conditions improved and we had a few hours work in the salt spray around the north end of Jura. With Wimbledon in the air and Andrew Murray doing so well, Lachie and I have been marking out the Trollaigh court, the site of many a hard fought match. Over the years, many a celebrity has graced the Trollaigh base line from Fred Perry to Robert Plant, but I can just remember Sir Winston Churchill playing my Grandfather, both in splendid white flannel on a scorching Saturday. After a few serves Sir Winston handed his racquet to a junior private secretary and retreated to a shady deck chair, I was allowed to pour him an Ardbeg as he ignited a huge cigar. He then regaled my sisters and I with eye-popping stories about General MacArthur and six Philippino girls while my mother flustered and trumpeted around us. No wonder the general swore that he would return to Manila. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.