Contrary to popular belief, I have not fallen off the face of the earth ;-D My trip to the UK was amazing and exhausting, and it's taken me this past week to get myself situated back at home. Truth be told, I'm still not done, the contents of my suitcase are still exploded all over my guest room. It's not a pretty sight ;-D I managed to get the laundry done, however, which was major. I mean, when you live in pretty much the same clothes for 2 1/2 weeks . . . well, let me just say that my p.j.'s could have walked away on their own. Eeuuwww!
It took me until today to get the photos out of the camera. The camera. The new camera. OMG I just hate it and it was really difficult dealing with it on the trip - and yet there are some great photos, so I am grateful for that.
The Isle of Iona is a small (and I do mean small) island in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland. I have been there before. In fact, Iona is the reason that I'm a spinner. But this time, I was on Iona in the fall instead of the spring, and interestingly enough, this time I did not see even ONE tuft or lock of wool on the ground! Clearly, I was meant to be there that spring of 2007 to begin my spinning journey.
Iona in the fall is different than Iona in the spring - it rained a really lot, which never bothers me, and it was beautiful in way that is hard to put into words (even for me, chatterbox that I am). The landscape is the same and yet different, and the week I spent there this time was important in many ways for my spirit. I'll not blog too much about that, however, because one of the things I've learned is that when you have an experience that is magical in the way that Iona is, it's sometimes best not to talk too much about it.
I will let it suffice to say that should you ever get the chance to go to this tiny island in the sea, take advantage of it, and I'll let the photos do the talking :-)
The sunrise on the ferry from Oban to Mull
A gateway to another world . . .
Still plenty of sheep there . . .
An island in autumn . . .
With the the last hurrah of summer . . .
The peace of the past . . .
And the beauty of the present . . .
Perhaps a sweater pattern to be coaxed from an ancient stone . . .
And the end of the trail . . .
I'll blog more about my trip in the coming days, for there is much more to share. In the mean time, I wish for all who might read this, the joy of the coming holiday season, and the peace of knowing your own heart.