i'll rent the cottage for holiday and one afternoon, while hanging the wash to air dry in the breeze, i'll cross paths with the sheepherder who will ask if he may join me for tea. unable to resist his rustic charm, i'll submit and invite him in. over tea, biscuits and honey, we'll talk for hours--the sheep needing to be penned in for the night is the only reason the stories end.
images courtesy of blackeiffel.blogspot.com
the advertisement had me at "a traditional white stone croft in the north west highlands... fifty yards from the sea and set in beautiful remote countryside." the pictures of the white house, gigantic blue sky and sea, mountains on the horizon, and grazing sheep aided in rallying my interest.
i want to go. i can already taste the salt in the air and the sea in the breeze.
