Christmas preparations at the house have started slowly.
I’ve decided that Olive deserved a bit of Christmas bling so she has been draped with cool LED lights and a few paper baubles that are light enough not to damage her fragile, spindly branches.
She also has a few paper birds dangling from her boughs in which the cats are already expressing great interest.
Olive in her finery
She looks rather splendid bedecked with her paper balls and I’m debating whether or not to put up a Christmas tree as well, or whether she’s festive enough on her own. At the moment I’m leaning towards letting her be the star of the festivities.
A few Christmas decorations have slowly crept into the house.
Mostly it will be fresh evergreens and twigs that I’ll cut a few days before Christmas for the table, but is it even Christmas without a scattering of candles and fairy lights?
Beeswax candles for the Christmas table
On these dark days so close to the winter solstice when the daylight fades by early afternoon, I feel that we need all the light that we can get to cheer us in our wintering.
The sewing machine and boxes of fabric have been unpacked at last and after a quick dust-off were set up in my study.
It’s been over eight years since I last used my sewing machine. It’s been in boxes in storage all that time. I have missed it.
After installing a fresh needle and new thread I’ve been re-connecting with it, trying to remember settings, thread tension, width and how to spool the bobbins. I used to make tote bags with it as a hobby, and although I’ve never been a confident or expert sewist I do want to learn more.
And oh, the fabric stacks… I am a fabric hoarder. There, I’ve said it.
I have scraps of fabric kept “just in case” for quilting and bigger projects dating back twenty years and more. Someone once said to me that the collection and use of fabrics were in fact two entirely different hobbies, and I can see truth in that.
I’ve started unpacking and sorting the fabric, but there are many boxes more to go through. Everything from Japanese silk remnants to upholstery fabric and all variables between..
I’ve decided to keep it simple this year with some homemade linen napkins and a few small sewn projects as gifts for friends at Christmas.
And yes, you guessed it. One particular napkin project for a friend who loves Scandinavian fabrics did necessitate more fabric to be purchased! This is a beautiful Marimekko linen from Finland.
So, as the temperature outside drops and the snow forecasts threaten, I shall be tucked up in my study happily sewing away.
It’s the day that we were to host the local crofters cooperative.
One Sunday each month is designated the crofting cooperative day, and a group of local crofters take it in turn to host it. The day is used to undertake tasks where extra hands might be needed on the host croft – tree planting, digging drainage, pruning bushes, scything brush, that sort of thing.
Extra help from the skies!
We had just taken a delivery of more heritage apple and pear trees so had planned for the extra hands to do tree planting. We’d also collected a few dozen sacks of seaweed after the recent storms to mulch the base of the trees to suppress weeds and add additional nutrients.
Seaweed collection
The day dawned wet and windy. No surprises there on Skye, I guess. The local crofters are a hardy bunch completely undeterred by rain and they turned up well dressed for the weather.
Supplies for the workers
After a few hours of planting and mulching we broke for hot coffee, soup and home baked bread, and cinnamon buns. And a good natter about all matters land related.
Stormy skies
This is such a good initiative. We all help each other, and it’s great to spend time with like-minded people who are wrestling with the same challenges that we are. It’s also heartwarming to share the celebration of this wonderful place that we all live in.
The trees are in and happily tucked up with their collar of seaweed. Winter is coming fast now on the teeth of the gales, but we’re prepared.
We’ve had some beautiful sunrises over the last few weeks.
This morning as the sun rose slowly behind the mountains on the Knoydart Peninsula it sent a shaft of sunlight through the valley towards Loch Nevis, like an orange searchlight.
The morning was blustery, with strong winds building steadily. We’ve had storm warnings of up to 80mph winds for the west of the island, and listening to the wind roaring around the house, I can believe it.
Time to secure the bins and tie down anything loose before it takes off.
I remember watching the cover on my rotary washing line wrestle itself free of its bindings and fly off triumphantly in a storm last year. It’s probably in Norway by now.
There is a croft not far from here on the Sleat peninsula called Wildlife Croft Skye. It’s a beautiful woodland croft nestled into the hillside at Drumfearn, at the head of Loch Eishort.
Its owners, Phil and Laura, ran a croft walk-around event and discussion about sustainable woodland practices yesterday, and we attended.
Drumfearn and Loch Eishort
Phil had warned that the terrain was a bit steep and uneven in places, and with the event scheduled to run over four hours I confess to nearly cancelling as I was worried that my knees would give out. But I’ve followed Wildlife Croft for years and really wanted to see the croft and learn about how they managed it, so off we went.
Wildlife Croft Skye
It was an overcast and drizzly day, but that didn’t dampen our enjoyment of it a bit. Phil had cut green swathes through the tall grass and undergrowth to create paths so navigating the three hectare woodland space wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared.
This is a green haven for wildlife on an otherwise quite typically barren hillside of island terrain. Trees cover most of the area, the bird and insect life is incredible and their house, polytunnel and bothy (Stonechat Bothy, which is bookable as a holiday let if anyone is interested in a remarkable place to stay) are nestled into the trees and aren’t at all visible from the single track road that snakes through the tiny township down to the sea loch.
Young oak
The tree varieties, mostly native species and many that they have grown themselves from seed, are extensive. Alder, elder, aspen, rowan, oak, hawthorn, birch, beech, many species of willow (grown for Laura’s basket making) and so many others. There are clumps of wild raspberries, blackberries, pignuts, wild angelica, carpets of meadowsweet, wild irises, grasses and wild orchids in abundance.
Wild Angelica with red soldier beetles
They have about fifty apple and pear trees, many of them heritage varieties planted over the last eight years, all growing successfully on a sheltered part of the croft, many already laden with young fruit.
Yes, the trees need managing, and no they can’t be just planted and left completely to their own devices, but Phil’s tree management is light touch, largely leaving nature to do its own thing. And everything seems to find a balance nicely.
We came away re-energised and inspired. This place started just like our croft, a hillside of over-grazed grassland on a steep slope, and now it’s a green oasis for wildlife, providing the family with fuel, food and a beautiful place to live in partnership with nature. If we can achieve a fraction of this we’ll be happy.
We awoke a few days ago to a silent white landscape. Quite magical in its way with the snow blanketing the building rubble in a sanitising coat of white.
White morning
But clearly way too cold to put any tender plants out into the unheated polycrub anytime soon.
We’ve had a bit of a mixed result with our early seed germination, and a further week of late snow here on the island. I think that some of the seeds took one look at the weather outside and thought, no way..
The cucumber and beans raced up to meet the world, but the chillies, kale, tomatoes and lettuce have been more reluctant to emerge into this chilly white landscape. And I can’t blame them.
The locals call February “false spring” as we enjoy gloriously bright, sunny days at this time of the year. It’s quite stunning.
But winter still has the land in its icy grasp and snow in March and April often follows. Plant out at your peril. It’s still frozen hard under those beams of trickster sunlight.
These are still days for big, warming breakfasts, pots of tea by the fire and much watching of the weather from the warmth of the sofa.
Çılbır, poached eggs with yoghurt and peppery butterShakshuka for breakfast
Things are moving in the right direction with the build. We’re gradually making cupboards, wardrobes and shelves so that we can utilise the storage spaces in the house. And get some of our boxes unpacked. Husband wants his shed back!
This is the wardrobe in one of the bedrooms under construction. It will hide the remaining exposed ducting and provide good amounts of storage.
Internals being built With the doors on
This one below is the boot room cupboard. As soon as the doors have been osmo-oiled for protection and we’ve attached handles we can start to fill it.
With the doors on …
We’ve got a loaned dog staying with us right now who delights in rolling in the puddles on our drive, and this space is proving very useful to dry him off in before he plasters mud over the rest of the house.
Great practice for when we have our own dogs again.
We’ve also started the process of building the huge bookcase in the living area. Progress has been temporarily halted whilst we await the arrival of some batons (isn’t something small but essential always missing?) but the base storage unit is built.
We are still wiring sockets and lights, have another bathroom to build and have only unpacked the most basic of our things awaiting completion of these elements, but it’s comfortable, dry and warm. And so good to be in.
The winter gales are well underway now here on Skye, howling around the house and singing in the woodburner flue. The good thing is that the house feels solid and warm, despite being perched on the cusp of this very exposed hill overlooking the sea.
A break in the storms
I still haven’t got used to the lack of rocking motion that we used to have in the caravan whenever the wind blew! I’m sure I developed sea legs in the two years that we lived in it.
Woodburner doing its thing
We’ve decided not to unpack any further boxes until we’ve finished the electrics in the house and got some storage built. At the moment we have no lights or live power in about half the house and no bookcases, wardrobes or shelves. Just the essentials. As most of what we will bring in from the boxes will have nowhere to be put away it makes sense to hold off for a while.
Husband is continuing with the fitting of lights and sockets. Once he’s finished that, a good few more weeks work, I’d say, we can start building the shelving for the linen cupboard, server room and pantry. Then we can start unpacking a bit more.
We have just ordered the wood for the bookcases and wardrobes and have a joiner lined up to build them for us in February. That will be a big step forward in making the house a home. At the moment it’s still feeling a bit echoey and empty.
Sunrise this morning
But we’re loving waking up to the most incredible sunrises. The bedroom faces South East and often on even the most grey and dreich of Scottish winter days there’s a brief, glorious burst of early morning sunlight before the clouds swarm across the sky.
Borrowed friends croft dog living it up on the sofa in the sun
The sunlight in the house during the day is fabulous. The low winter sun fills the rooms. Once we have finished I think that this will be a wonderful space to live in. I can already see that we will need to agree on blinds soon..
My job this coming week is to osmo oil the oak interior doors. There are fourteen of them to do, and each door needs two coats, so that will keep me busy for a while. It’s good to be useful beyond feeding us both.
In the race to get into the house before the highland winter really bit, we’re down to the wire now.
The weather over the last few days has been much colder as the winds have veered to the north east, and snow is forecast.
We are still at least a week away from moving in. Husband is trying to fit a toilet, sink and shower so that we have basic facilities in place, but it’s slow going. We have water to the upstairs bathroom now, we just need the fittings in place!
Mornings in the caravan are painful now. Temperatures drop to a few degrees centigrade overnight and even with the gas fire on full blast the caravan doesn’t reach more than sixteen degrees centigrade all day. I have dug out my fingerless gloves and thermals.
When it’s like this I retreat to the house and sit in the warmth of the bedroom whilst husband gets on with the plumbing. I can’t unpack anything whilst it’s still a building site, but I can sit and imagine. The solar gain from our big windows, combined with the underfloor heating are very efficient, and it’s warm!
Sunshiny day. But cold.
I dream of hot showers and drying off in a warm room without having to do the shivering dance to race into clothes before anything freezes.
Not long now.
I popped into the polycrub earlier this morning to see how things were faring. The temperature gauge recorded that it had dropped to 0.5C in there last night, but everything seems fine. The kale is looking perky, the slugs are having a bean feast with my pak choi, and the beetroot is looking pretty bulletproof.
I am still awed by the miracle of my winter lettuces.
We have snow on the tops at last. I always compare the weather at this time of the year with when we arrived on the island two years ago in the teeth of a storm, and both subsequent years have been warmer. I was beginning to wonder if we’d see any snow at all, but temperatures plummeted a few days ago and we now have a glorious white dusting on the high peaks.
Dusting of snow on the hills
The MVHR and the heating are operating well in the house. It’s already significantly warmer and more stable in temperature than the caravan.
As we shiver and dress in the damp cold of 5°C mornings I hold onto the fact that we’ll be in the house in a few weeks time. No more icy mornings playing the duvet game trying to dress without exposing any bare flesh to the elements.
After a wait of several weeks the wood for the sills arrived this afternoon, cheerfully delivered by our local sawmill guy. In the end he decided that the pews would be rather wasted if we were to refinish them for sills, and that he would prefer to preserve the original patina, so declined to sell them to us and found us suitable 4m lengths of local Douglas fir instead.
4m Douglas fir planks
I can’t say that I blame him, although I was quite taken by the idea of old wood having a second life in our new home. But at least that patina, burnished by the bottoms of the righteous as it was, will be protected.
Husband has been fitting sockets, switches and lights like a demon and will move onto one of the bathrooms next week. Once we are electrickified and have a working toilet and shower, we’re in!
The fact that the house is still stuffed to the rafters with building materials, tools, equipment, wood and boxes of everything that you can think of is another hurdle to get over. Once everything is connected up…
In the meantime I have tried a new recipe in my sloping caravan mini oven. This may be one of the very last cakes I bake in here, isn’t that such a strange thought. My new ovens await, sitting there, smugly level, shiny and pristine.
This is Nigel Slaters orange and poppy seed cake, sticky with a fresh orange and marmalade glaze which I hope won’t taste any less good for it’s signature 45° slope.
Ravencroft Skye 