A Taste of Village Life

The Damn Winter Sun

I love it here. I really do. But I make no secret to the people that I know that it drives me nuts to hear all the complaints about the weather. I will make it no secret with any readers now as well. I am from New Jersey, USA, where your skin begins to melt in the summer and your moisturizer freezes in the winter the second you walk outside (no kidding, every pore gets a little tingly "pop"). The truth is, the weather is not all that bad here. Blasphemy!

I know, I know, it rains. Well...it rains in New Jersey too. That's what helps to make it the Garden State. The Scots would have you believe that it rains every day here. Nope. It doesn't. And even if it does rain every day, the sun usually peaks out as well at some point. It never ceases to amaze me that people will stop on the street to chat and I'll say, "isn't it lovely out," and they will reply, "too much rain. Did you hear it last night." I can never make the connection between how rain in the night ruins the beautiful day in front of you right now.

Don't get me wrong. When it rains for days and days and days and it is dreary and icky, I, too, hate the weather. But that really doesn't happen that often. Plus, I believe we humans are pretty much water proof. Add to that the ability to put on rain gear, and you have it made! No one likes to get caught out in a storm unprepared, it can be miserable and getting wet can make you chill to the bone in the time it takes one gust of wind to come through. But mostly, you can be prepared. By the way, I recommend Paramo gear. It is ungodly expensive, but worth every dime. I have one of the smocks...it cost the same as a small cottage, but I don't regret it now. One day I'll save up enough to buy a pair of the trousers!

So, why the rant today? I am usually not a ranter, so I'll blame it on the short days we are having. We have had some beautiful sunny days here and in the absence of rain and general weather to complain about, I heard someone complain about the sun. No lie. In fact, the quote was "the damn winter sun."

It was about how low in the sky it is just now and how it makes driving difficult. True? Yes. Significant? Yes. Worthy of planetary damnation? No!

I bit my tongue. Oh, so hard did I bite it. And, I walked away. When there are only 8 good hours of daylight, I think you should embrace every last bit of light, not damn the sun for it's position in the sky. In my head I said, "You just drove a mile...walk! Walk I tell you, walk!"

It simply runs deep here. It is the very culture to complain about the weather--good and bad. I spent my first year here disagreeing with people about how the weather was actually quite mild and how I liked a good, windy day. They all looked at me like I had five heads, two of them with tentacles and one of them with horns. Now I just give a sympathetic head nod and continue my journey. I am the foreigner. This is their land. I need to adjust and let them be who they are.

Quietly, I will tell the sun that I am on it's side.

Moray Coastal Trail: Roseisle to Hopeman

I decided that since I live on the Moray Coastal Trail that I needed to walk it. I have walked some of the legs more than once and yesterday I did the Roseisle to Hopeman (via Cummingston and Burghead) trek.

It was a beautiful day, crisp and cool and sunny most of the way. I went with my friend, Martine, and my dog Milton. We moved slowly talking to everyone we could along the way. Plus, while watching the surfers in Burghead, we were dazzled by the dolphins playing close by.

If you get the chance you should try some of the Trail. It is so worth the effort.

Burghead from Roseisle
Waves crashing to shore outside of Cummingston
Who cares about the rain when it is followed by this view?

NaNoWriMo

I actually feel guilty writing this post. I have signed up for the National Novel Writing Month. A challenge where you pledge to write 50,000 words in the month of November. It is crazy. I am hoping to do it in 22 days (leaves me a cushion if I get the swine flu!). I have 4683 words in place so far, but my neck hurts.

I have joined the local region (Scotland::Other) and there are 777 other members but no one seems to be answering posts on the NaNoWriMo site. I just can't believe there are 777 other folks in this remote region trying to write a novel. So cool to be a part of that collective. Lonely not to know any of them.

In any case, am off to continue my book. Will see what time will tally.

The Beloved Buttery

My husband, the biggest fan of butteries ever, said that I should let people know what a buttery is, especially after I wrote about them in a previous post. I agree. So here is a plate of butteries for you to salivate over.

I once used a plate of butteries just like this to entice my sister and her husband who were visiting to finally ignore their jet lag and wake up. They were served as breakfast in bed with a carafe of coffee and are still talked about to this day. She says she'll be back to visit me, but I'll never be totally sure if it is more to see me, or to get more butteries. Hmmm????

Darkness

I can't believe the darkness that is falling on my front garden. It is only 3:34 and and it is almost sunset here. I love, love, love the long days of summer, but these short days (getting shorter still) are making me a bit sad. The street lights will be on soon and I'll have to close the drapes...until April at least! There is no such thing as daylight savings in the northern darkness. Luckily I have my SAD alarm clock/dawn simulator to keep me from complete hibernation.

Talking Funny

When I first moved here, I went flying into a local convenience store and after quickly skimming the tiny space I asked the clerk where I might find the batteries.

She looked straight at me, then tilted her head to the left and asked, “Batteries or butteries?”

I was happy to clarify, “Batteries.”

She tilted her head to her right and said, “Batteries or butteries?”

Again, I answered, “Batteries.”

She tilted her head to her left and said, “Batteries or butteries?”

This time I got it right. I answered, “Batteries. Electronics. Power. Can’t eat them.” To which she happily put her head back on straight and with a slight nod pointed to the stand where they were hidden in plain view.

This would be the first of many times that I would be misunderstood. I’ve made changes in some of my pronunciations for survival's sake (I got tired of getting a potato when I asked for tomato). I’ve also learned a trick or two…like I never go right into a question or a request when I enter a shop. I always start with a “Hello. It is a beautiful day today” or some such pleasantries. This is for no other reason than to let the person catch up with the fact that I am not a local. Well...and I am pleasant.

I was on the other side of almost that same exchange with my friend’s son last Sunday. It started with, “Are you Clyde or Clive?” and went three head-teetering rounds before I had him spell it. It is Clyde, by the way…in case you were wondering.

It does crack me up that whether it is me that is talking funny or listening funny, the resulting conversation has a corresponding and questioning cock of the head. It is the cultural equalizer and I wonder if it is possible to ask for clarification without the head tilt action in any language, any culture.

Footnote: For those of you who may be wondering what a buttery is, well…it is a local baked good made with, you guessed it…butter. Think of a rich, buttery, flaky croissant. Now pack it down until it is very, very dense and add a bit of salt. That is a buttery. You would hate to ask for a buttery and get a battery…that I can assure you!