John and I spent the last days of 2022 and the first days of 2023 in Speybridge. A delightful old cottage was our temporary home:
We triked to Tomintoul, where we found all eateries closed. Armed with pies from the village shop, we had a stand-up lunch by our trikes in the low midday sun. Very soon we had an audience! One inquisitive little robin came to see what we were munching on. I dropped some crumbs on the ground, which it eagerly consumed. Then it hopped on the trike frame (and pooped). It sat so still and seemingly at ease, that John got his camera out while I tried handfeeding our little friend. I can still feel its beak gently picking off the butter and seeds from my fingers:
The ride back to Speybridge was amazing, with a winter sun colouring the hills and the sky. I wished the journey was twice as long!
On New Year’s morning I went for a swim in the Spey, to make sure I would start the year well and truly awake. It was awesome and the feeling lasted all day:
And so begins a new year. Yesterday I sowed my onions and leeks, while the summer still feels far away. In the woods, under the snow lies all the mushroom mycelium, dormant and waiting for its moment in the sun. I’m hoping to discover new species (well, new to me that is) this year, and perhaps 2023 is the year where John and I will reach the top of the allotment waiting list!
Have a fantastic year folks, full of love and honest wholesomeness. ❤️
The healthy forager 