summer's end

A belated farewell to Scotland, with some repeat photos.

As always, Miss Nicks expresses the sentiments better than I can.

{There's a bit of Miss Swift in there too. Don't hate.}

Six[teen] weeks in a foreign country.


How the time flew.


I didn't speak the language.

But somehow I knew.


At the end of the [Glasweg]ian summer.


It rains fast and it rains hard.


There's something about the way the street looks
when it's just rained.


There's a glow off the pavement.

And the summer became the fall.

I was not ready for the winter.


It makes no difference at all.

'Cause I wear boots all summer long.

Three castles, two palaces.
Two cities, two cathedrals.
One seaside, one island, one loch.
A Royal Wedding.
Successful Scottish Summer, check.


So here's to the heath, the hill, and the heather--


The bonnet, the plaid, the kilt, and the feather.


Scotland, you were not expected.


But I love you nonetheless.
xx