Going Green
20/01/24 11:48
Proximity to the Atlantic is the primary reason snow accumulation is a rarity up here on Loch Carron. Thus the 20 centimeters or so that blew in from the Arctic this past week were enough to close the schools. Bus drivers didn’t want to navigate the network of sinuous single-track roads in the area — and parents agreed that a worry-free week was worth having their wee ones at home.
But -5°C and a few inches of powder is October weather for Coloradans. Clipping on the Yaktrax we hit the hiking trails, checking off Duncraig, Ob an Duine, and Coral Beach from our list of must-do rambles. With every step we took in crisp air and stunning views.
But our conversations kept returning to one thing: the greenery. We were fascinated by the January verdure — in the mountains, no less! The number of plants blooming far outnumber the ones dormant or dead. No matter which way you look, mixed in with the assorted evergreens you will spy a variety of broadleafs that proudly clench their emerald jewelry, even when wearing a snowy mantle.
Friends who have seen our photos have asked if those were really palm trees…in the Scottish Highlands?! Indeed. And there is also brilliant rhododendron, gorse, daphne, holly, koromiko, bracken, and even bamboo. The list is long. Wester Ross is certainly a region of bliss for botanists.
The New Christy Minstrels had a hit song in the 60s titled Green, Green. Barry McGuire and his accompanists would sing out:
Green, green, it’s green they say;
On the far side of the hill.
Green, green, I’m going away;
To where the grass is greener still.
Barry, if you’re going to the west coast of the Scottish Highlands, you’ll reach your destination.
The locals are swift to point out that there are two primary reasons for the perpetual vegetation. The first is the warm water of the Gulf Stream that makes its way out of the Gulf of Mexico, around Florida, and then up and across the ocean, eventually turning into the North Atlantic Drift. Where we are is as far north as the Hudson Bay in Canada — where the sea freezes over in winter. But not here, thanks to that curious flow. Grab a globe and ponder that. The science of it should make us all want to be more involved with creation care. We must not forget our stewardship obligation, entrusted to us by God.
The second reason our new neighbors say it’s always green is year-round rain. There’s an age-old adage in Scotland: “You know it’s summer because the rain is warmer.” It’s raining now. It comes and goes. The Scots all but ignore it.
A few hours ago I was working with a joiner — a profession you don’t hear a lot about in the States — on a two-century-old cast iron rain gutter. As we were moving a ladder, a momentary torrent blew through. The craftsman paid no mind to the rainfall. No duck and cover. Normal as the seagull’s squawks.
When you think about it, what many would consider an inconvenience actually brings the vibrance. And if it ceases to be bothersome, you’re only left with the beauty. I pray we all can, as much as possible, tune out life’s tolerable frustrations and focus on the splendor.
But -5°C and a few inches of powder is October weather for Coloradans. Clipping on the Yaktrax we hit the hiking trails, checking off Duncraig, Ob an Duine, and Coral Beach from our list of must-do rambles. With every step we took in crisp air and stunning views.
But our conversations kept returning to one thing: the greenery. We were fascinated by the January verdure — in the mountains, no less! The number of plants blooming far outnumber the ones dormant or dead. No matter which way you look, mixed in with the assorted evergreens you will spy a variety of broadleafs that proudly clench their emerald jewelry, even when wearing a snowy mantle.
Friends who have seen our photos have asked if those were really palm trees…in the Scottish Highlands?! Indeed. And there is also brilliant rhododendron, gorse, daphne, holly, koromiko, bracken, and even bamboo. The list is long. Wester Ross is certainly a region of bliss for botanists.
The New Christy Minstrels had a hit song in the 60s titled Green, Green. Barry McGuire and his accompanists would sing out:
Green, green, it’s green they say;
On the far side of the hill.
Green, green, I’m going away;
To where the grass is greener still.
Barry, if you’re going to the west coast of the Scottish Highlands, you’ll reach your destination.
The locals are swift to point out that there are two primary reasons for the perpetual vegetation. The first is the warm water of the Gulf Stream that makes its way out of the Gulf of Mexico, around Florida, and then up and across the ocean, eventually turning into the North Atlantic Drift. Where we are is as far north as the Hudson Bay in Canada — where the sea freezes over in winter. But not here, thanks to that curious flow. Grab a globe and ponder that. The science of it should make us all want to be more involved with creation care. We must not forget our stewardship obligation, entrusted to us by God.
The second reason our new neighbors say it’s always green is year-round rain. There’s an age-old adage in Scotland: “You know it’s summer because the rain is warmer.” It’s raining now. It comes and goes. The Scots all but ignore it.
A few hours ago I was working with a joiner — a profession you don’t hear a lot about in the States — on a two-century-old cast iron rain gutter. As we were moving a ladder, a momentary torrent blew through. The craftsman paid no mind to the rainfall. No duck and cover. Normal as the seagull’s squawks.
When you think about it, what many would consider an inconvenience actually brings the vibrance. And if it ceases to be bothersome, you’re only left with the beauty. I pray we all can, as much as possible, tune out life’s tolerable frustrations and focus on the splendor.
