Along the river to Auchterarder

Talkative rooks, silly cars and the epicentre of a schism

Welcome to the pages of my Travel Journal. This post comes to you from rural Perthshire in Scotland. For shorter reading, you might prefer my series called Sketches.

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Birch branches drizzle yellow. A cool movement of air tingles the sunlit fronds of willow above the river, sliding its slow journey through undulating arable land. Hawthorn berries like crimson sparks burgeon in the undergrowth, and crisp sycamore leaves drop to rest with a tap among dew-laden grasses. The water-loving alder is resisting the firey drama of its neighbours; shadow rather than flame seeps into its foliage – its little green female cones are turning to black, its male catkins to lugubrious purple.