Is there anything more romantic than the night sky? On a night like this: nothing. Inky black space and stars sprinkled like celestial sugar (ridiculous, I know). They speak of an unparalleled distance from the here and now, but the here and now speaks more aesthetically to me at this moment in time. Past the streetlights, the golf course hides in darkness: beyond, the lights of the central belt bathe Scotland the colour of rust. There’s more colour in this night than there was in the day. The landscape of man has its moments, when it’s not killing the night sky.
I haven’t seen a bird worth talking about since the snows melted.
Days spent deep in books and nights spent forgetting it all again. That’s the pattern at the moment. A walk back from my friends attempted to cure the mood. Instead I got a Barn Owl. White under the streetlights, on rounded silent wings, it’s in front of me when I notice it. Owl. Most definitely not Tawny goes the thought process. In seconds it had disappeared into the darkness, with one lingering Barn Owl shriek…
And, just like that, birds fly through my life again. It’s my first in Scotland, surprisingly, and not outwith the bounds of reason, but quite unexpected anyway. With the direction, height and speed of flight, I guess it was taking a shortcut from one patch of farmland to another, avoiding the city or hills.