cliabh · creels
The Road West. Where the rain and the sun take turns by the minute, and the road answers with a rainbow.
The first day's way, marked in stones.
The tide is out at Plockton

The sea has stepped away for the morning
and left the village its moorings.



CliabhCreels stacked on the jetty, ropes coiled like sleeping animals. A working shore, resting.
Still lifes the fishermen leave behind every single day without knowing it.
cliabh · creels
slabhraidh · chain
lìon · meshThe great shaggy beasts
Stop the car.
Stop the car.
Bò GhàidhealachShe has stood in weather like this for two hundred generations. You, in your rain jacket, are the novelty here.


Christ's church, roofless since 1840

The sheep keep the graveyard now,
and the mist keeps the sheep.


Field plate: the tree standing guard at the kirk gate, berries and all.
The water of life

An taigh-staileFounded 1830 by the MacAskill brothers at Carbost, on the shore of Loch Harport. 'Made by the sea' is not a slogan here, it is a map reference.

An taigh-bathairCasks asleep in rows. The angels take their two percent a year and nobody begrudges them.


The garden at the end of Sleat

An gàirnealairOne man, one lawn the size of a loch, and all the patience in the world.

Caisteal ArmadailThe castle burned in 1855 and the garden simply grew around what was left.
A field plate, drawn on the road: the flower that guards the country.
The walled garden, still flowering into October while the hills behind it go to rust.
lili — tiger lily
fraoch — heather
cluaran mara — sea holly
flùr — verbena