Fair Isles, Scotland
A rainbow swept from a frosted ebony sea reaching towards the patchwork sky. Its translucent color bands dissected the steep and rocky shore of the “far isle” into a mosaic of every hue. Patterns, squares and circles, crosses and stars appeared. We glided closer, dipping and climbing through trough and wave. The ephemeral band moved to meet us. As the distance closed, the pot at the end of the rainbow seemed within our grasp but as ship and brilliance met, the rainbow was no more. Little did we know the treasure waited on shore.
Tilted bedding planes of reddish sandstone etched by the sea, dropped away beneath our feet. Splashes of white arranged in random designs told of inhabitants there. Guillemots and razorbills, inky backs and ivory chests, stood in regular rows. Nests of kittiwakes and fulmars seemed suspended on air. Curious puffins stepped from their burrowed homes to look upon our scene. Wind drew tears and with that moment of blurred clarity we saw the colors of Fair Isle knits. Although it was not from this land that the idea originally came, it is the land and its form that melds and modifies the Moorish design. The raw material was still on the hoof. Tiny lambs in shades from charcoal black to rufous red and, of course, snowy white frolicked in the nearby fields.
Far from the crowds of cities, far from the TV screen, life can be both harsh and rewarding. Seventy people or so call Fair Isle home and they were our hosts today. At the end of a brisk, steep climb, tea and cookies renewed our energies. The community collected to share, to swap stories and display their crafts. School children, both boys and girls, knitted wee teddy bear frocks. Profits were earmarked for an adventure away from their isle on a sailing ship bound for neighboring Orkney. Hats, scarves and sweaters were earmarked for voyages to North American homes.
As we strolled back to the landing, downhill and wind at our backs, Arctic terns flushed from the fields above by some predator. They creaked and swirled like snow, finally settling into silence once again. Strange wire enclosures were positioned over ditches, on fence lines, near the few miniature trees and even in gardens. Funneling towards one end, they invited passerines to enter in. Measured and weighed and fitted with a silver bracelet, they continued on their way. Migrants and residents alike are counted. Their diversity and numbers combined with the abundance of seabird nests make this island a world-renowned ornithological observation site.
In the afternoon the ship sailed south in settling seas, as we relaxed in comfort to read or sleep or continue with our pursuit of knowledge.
A rainbow swept from a frosted ebony sea reaching towards the patchwork sky. Its translucent color bands dissected the steep and rocky shore of the “far isle” into a mosaic of every hue. Patterns, squares and circles, crosses and stars appeared. We glided closer, dipping and climbing through trough and wave. The ephemeral band moved to meet us. As the distance closed, the pot at the end of the rainbow seemed within our grasp but as ship and brilliance met, the rainbow was no more. Little did we know the treasure waited on shore.
Tilted bedding planes of reddish sandstone etched by the sea, dropped away beneath our feet. Splashes of white arranged in random designs told of inhabitants there. Guillemots and razorbills, inky backs and ivory chests, stood in regular rows. Nests of kittiwakes and fulmars seemed suspended on air. Curious puffins stepped from their burrowed homes to look upon our scene. Wind drew tears and with that moment of blurred clarity we saw the colors of Fair Isle knits. Although it was not from this land that the idea originally came, it is the land and its form that melds and modifies the Moorish design. The raw material was still on the hoof. Tiny lambs in shades from charcoal black to rufous red and, of course, snowy white frolicked in the nearby fields.
Far from the crowds of cities, far from the TV screen, life can be both harsh and rewarding. Seventy people or so call Fair Isle home and they were our hosts today. At the end of a brisk, steep climb, tea and cookies renewed our energies. The community collected to share, to swap stories and display their crafts. School children, both boys and girls, knitted wee teddy bear frocks. Profits were earmarked for an adventure away from their isle on a sailing ship bound for neighboring Orkney. Hats, scarves and sweaters were earmarked for voyages to North American homes.
As we strolled back to the landing, downhill and wind at our backs, Arctic terns flushed from the fields above by some predator. They creaked and swirled like snow, finally settling into silence once again. Strange wire enclosures were positioned over ditches, on fence lines, near the few miniature trees and even in gardens. Funneling towards one end, they invited passerines to enter in. Measured and weighed and fitted with a silver bracelet, they continued on their way. Migrants and residents alike are counted. Their diversity and numbers combined with the abundance of seabird nests make this island a world-renowned ornithological observation site.
In the afternoon the ship sailed south in settling seas, as we relaxed in comfort to read or sleep or continue with our pursuit of knowledge.
