Scotland warms up

Having spent the previous week looking from across the world at the weather forecasts for the west of Scotland and preparing ourselves mentally for a twenty degree temperature drop, within a week of arriving home the sun was out and was bringing with it a surprising amount of warmth. And so much had changed. Leaves were growing on trees where previously there were just buds, flowers had emerged on the gorse bushes and the bumble bees were busily searching for nesting spots in the long grass. Each day we looked out at something new, some just emerged shoots or the dandelions bursting into flower, until the day eventually came when it was warm enough to sit outside and take in everything with all our senses. So where do we end up? At the pond, of course.

The water level was high and the garden surrounding it was sodden (hardly surprising as we'd just missed a named storm, Kathleen). But was there life in the pond? Had Spring really arrived?

At first we could see nothing rippling the surface. Then after a few days there it was, movement, first one then more, pond skaters darting around. The weather improved again and several days later we were out there on our pond side seat (a pretty essential garden feature) and there was more; small nymph like beings swimming below the surface and a black beetle or two. Then it happened! A glimpse of movement whizzing across the bottom, tail flapping, then disappearing into the weeds. We have a newt, quite small but looking very relaxed. I have this mental picture of his mum wandering about, maybe getting bored with life on our neighbour's pond two gardens away, or perhaps she trundled down from the burn beyond our back fence, looking for excitement, and suddenly she discovers our little pond.

The water tastes sweet, there are insect larvae to chase, rocks to sunbathe on so she thinks:

'D'you know what, I think I'll lay some eggs here'.

Newts in our pond (we call this one Nigel) know they have humans looking after them as they can see us up on our pond seating and they will get no hassle from frogs or toads as they have yet to find their way here.

In a run of warm dry weather we find ourselves sitting by the pond making new discoveries. One day a water boatman rows himself around just under the surface using his arms like oars and then we spot a greater bee fly on the pond side vegetation. These things mimic bees but have very long noses which gives them away.

Soon they'll all be watching us erect the new polytunnel which replaces our rather broken greenhouse which we dismantled just before it collapsed or blew away in a gust of wind. It's all part of the grand plan, where we have an area of the garden to grow edible things and the rest is as wild as it wants to be. We haven't used a lawnmower since we moved in - why would you - and each day we are increasingly aware of what we can expect from the garden and which bits we have no desire to cultivate so we'll just let things grow. Throughout most of the garden we like to see what will grow without any intervention... and in many places this is moss, great luxuriant blankets of the stuff, soft underfoot (although we try not to walk on it too much) and always changing colour with the seasons. We read with horror about chemicals recommended for eliminating moss from the garden so the grass can grow. Such behaviour is alien to us.

The first few weeks back home after our holiday has taught us something important, something surprising, for which we were unprepared. Suddenly we look out of our living room window at the view below us and we're seeing it with new eyes. We're completely blown away by the beauty of the land we call home and we simply cannot get enough of it. Each day the view changes and excites us once again.