As we move through November we draw ever closer to the winter solstice and the darkest, longest night of the year. The constellations of Orion and the Plough are clear and bright in the dark night skies, and we start to sense the breath of winter across the croft.
It’s time for warming stews, winter berries, warm spices and the comfort of thick socks and jumpers in the caravan. The fire is on most of the time now.
And time for concrete. After months of let downs, delays, finding new solutions and a new supplier, we at last have a firm date for the arrival of the liquid thermal screed to go over our underfloor heating pipes in the house to make our floor.
It’s coming next week. It’s taken us a whole year to get to this stage and this is a big milestone for us. Once the floor is hard and dry enough to walk on, some weeks down the line, husband will start the MVHR duct installation and electrical wiring in preparation for plasterboard installation early in the new year.
I try not to wish my life away by focussing upon this time next year when we will be dry and cosy in the house. I’m conscious that although it’s what I want, that every day is precious, and that it’s still a long journey to get to that point.
We may be in a cold and drafty caravan which causes a sharp intake of breath before getting dressed in the mornings (with as many layers as we can) or a leap into the shower squeaking at the exposure of skin to cold air before the hot water hits, but this way of life also has its blessings.
We are very aware of, and very close to nature and the elements. The night skies are remarkable at this time of the year. The storms are elemental. This year has been one of reconnection with the land and weather after many years of numbness caused by urban living, and it’s been remarkable.
Opening the caravan door and listening to the rushing of the burn over the croft on a crisp, starry night, perhaps with the occasional hoot of an owl is a wonderful experience. There are no other sounds. The silence is profound.
When the storms hit and we are tucked up under warm quilts or blankets listening to the wind tearing across the croft, or the rain lashing the windows, it does also instill a very real sense of well-being and cosiness. We are grateful that we’re not out there in the teeth of the storm like so many have to be, and very aware of its power.
We count ourselves as very blessed.
Life is good.
Ravencroft Skye 
Whilst this road may have been longer than anticipated, I am absolutely positive that it is one you will not give up on, or regret.
Sat here in tee shirt and shorts having paid my respects by laying the wreath at the Cathedral in Malta, and mixed with fellows of a like mind, I admire your determination.
Good luck as the winter will start to embrace.
R
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Thanks Richard. We will get there 👍💪
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Congratulations on getting the concrete sorted in these difficult times. You will be cosy in the house when all is finished but I’m sure too you will have fond memories of you time in the caravan, (easier to remember the cold from the warmth of an underfloor heating home!). My late husband and I had many chuckles over some of the caravan living in the year the thermometer dropped to minus 20 but also said we wouldn’t want to do it again. I enjoy reading your journey and wish you a not too wild winter.
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Thank you Linda. As you say, it’s all making memories! I’m sure in a few years of warm dry living we’ll look back on this and think that we were slightly mad…❤️
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I have met or heard of several people who have found the second winter in a caravan harder than the first – the initial excitement and feeling of adventure having worn off! – so I am delighted to read that you are still finding positives. It will all be worth it in the end and hopefully you will keep your sense of connection to nature and joy in the little things. I could never go back to city living now.
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I don’t think that I could go back to city living ever again either. I’m loving the space and relative isolation 😊
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Beautiful images as usual. I recognise those feelings of cosiness and safety (and thankfulness also). Even though our environments are so very different, we both experience the awesome power of Nature the same. Although I suspect that when we complain of the cold here, we are still warmer than you are in the height of your Summer.
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I expect so. A hot summer here is 25 degrees centigrade. Normally it’s in the 18-20degrees centigrade range! What is cold where you are?
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We can get down as low as 4 C in the dead of Winter, at night. Although a usual Winter day is 20-25 C.
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