Scot here, blogging from a window seat in a fine tall sash and case window overlooking the lawn surrounded by trees in Lallybroch. The lasses are all away exploring and are ecstatic.
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| From the far window I blog to you |
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| Is that a Gabaldon I see on the dresser? |
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| She has become accustomed |
"Ye are Blood of my Blood and Bone of my Bone.
I give ye my Body, that we two might be one.
I give ye my spirit, till our Life shall be Done." (Copyright Gabaldon)
"Blood of My Blood" in Gàidhlig
Sali, here. We're east of Edinburgh and the Bard has a nose-bleed because he's so far from the Highlands. The rest of us are experiencing significant withdrawl. The Highlands are behind us? After months of anticipation, weeks of excitement and days of reveling in the rarified air, haunting ruins, and pervasive history of the Scottish Highlands - it's over?
Okay - enough whining for now. Day 7 brought us Lallybroch - no, really! White washed and three storied, glowing in the post-storm sun, it was everything our imaginations conjour up when ever Jamie and Claire go home. Complete with out-buildings, grazing sheep, game birds, and fields that go on forever!
After Lallybroch, the group climbed Monument Hill and got a bird's eye view of Prestonpans. Then a deli lunch in Haddington. While my tour-mates were fed and watered, I wrapped myself in my new wool cape and wandered off to explore the town. I ended at Tyne River and spent my lunch-time photographing a family of swans feeding at the river. And then the piece d'resistence - our rooms at "Lallybroch". I wonder what the poor people are doing right now?
Scot - This evening, back at the House, I had the pleasure of sending them to sleep one by one with tales, told in the room in the top picture above. A fine place to tell fine Tales to fine ladies.
It's at the end of this post.
"Also, here are some sheep."
