wander — Blog — home by the loch

Chapter Two

If January is the misplaced month, then February is the fickle one. It gives with one hand and snatches back with the other. We wait patiently for it to arrive throughout the inconspicuous days of January, hoping that when it comes, it will bring with it discernible signs of spring. And yet, more often than not, we find ourselves held hostage in the relentless grip of winter. But if we take the time to look, we will see that February is actually a plucky little month; one full of courage and determination. For underneath the silver-thatched grass and iron-clad earth, the cycle of the seasons is well underway.

wander, ponder, observeRebecca Checkley-MillsFebruary 9, 2024snowdrops, February, spring, wander, walking, Fife, gardens Comments

Queen of the Flask

The afternoon light was already beginning to fade by the time we reached it. The clouds were gradually descending and enveloping the hills in their mist until they floated just above the loch, transient and ethereal. We lit the stove and candles and settled in for the night. There is something so mystical about sleeping in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. You absorb and assimilate the very air that surrounds you. You are forced by the rhythms of your environment to slow down and adapt to its pace. But you are not lost. There is just enough peripheral sound to keep you conscious of each moment. You transcend your physical shell as your spirit stretches and spreads out to fill the void around you. It is one of the best night’s sleep you will ever have.

wander, observeRebecca Checkley-MillsNovember 7, 2019scotland, october, castle, glamping, autumn, seasons, perthshire Comments

Those Meandering Days

One late November morning though, the great grandfather clock in the hallway intruded on my sleep and woke me up as the sun was rising. I climbed out of bed, tentively padded across the room and drew open my curtains. Perched on top of a valley, my bedroom overlooked the fields and villages beyond. It was one of those perfect early winter mornings. The ground was covered with a heavy, glistening frost and the sky appeared as though it had been blended with pastels under a veil of calm water. A rosy hue had settled and engulfed everything as far as my eye could see. I opened the window and was suddenly struck by the cold air. It expanded in my chest as I breathed it in, invigorating me and wrenching me out of my sleep induced state. I knew in that second that I had to be out there and be a part of it.

wanderRebecca Checkley-MillsDecember 8, 2018Health, exercise, Nature, walking Comments

A Perfectly Portioned Autumn

It’s that time of year again, my favourite time when the smell of autumn lingers in the air and everything feels new and possible. Every year I have such high hopes for autumn. I promise myself that I shall be out revelling in it as much as possible. I imagine the long walks in my favourite knitwear, my ochre scarf wrapped around my neck as I kick up leaves in my walking boots. But for me, autumn always comes with a side serving of trepidation and fear. Because autumn is as much about food as it is about being outdoors. It’s the season of harvest and abundance, tempting me with big roast dinners, warming stews and wholesome soups. I love to plan walks where I know there's a cafe so I can sit and enjoy my cake and coffee as the light fades around me. For me, autumn gives with one hand and cruelly takes with another.

ponder, nest, observe, wanderRebecca Checkley-MillsSeptember 2, 2018autumn, diet, exercise, walking, healthy, seasonal Comments

Forever a Piece of England

I have always been an early riser. Those first few moments of the day, when the memory of slumber still lingers in my bones and my senses are gently stirred by the whisperings of a new day are my favourite. I will often wrap my grandmother’s shawl around my shoulders, pull on my thick, woolly socks and step out into the garden, mug of hot tea cupped in my hands and listen to the muffled choruses and rustlings of nature as it awakens around me.

wanderRebecca Checkley-MillsAugust 23, 2017england, village, church, father, childhood Comments

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