Scotland

I'm disappointed (though not surprised) by the outcome of the Scottish Independence vote. I would've welcomed an independent Scotland and would've looked forward to moving back there. (That, by the way, is not an academic notion. My wife and kids are Scottish. We've lived in Scotland before and will do so again. It's not a matter of if, but just of when we make the move back.)

That disappointment aside, though, I'm pleased by two seemingly contradictory things. One is that the vote wasn't super close. It would've been hard to take if it had been a really narrow victory or loss.

The second is that I'm quite proud of Scotland. They just had a peaceful vote on their future, on a big issue unlike any most of us face at the ballot box. They turned out in massive numbers to have their say. And that 45% that said yes is actually really impressive. That's a lot of yes in the face of a lot of NO-inspired horror stories that were being rolled out on a daily basis, and of course it's harder to make a huge change than it is to stay the course.

All in all, it was an impressive showing, one that reminds me why Scotland is a country I love.

Danny MacAskill

I know this is random, but... Wow. This is too cool. A very unique way to travel from Edinburgh to the Isle of Skye. Some of this stuff... how is it possible?

The Ladies Are Back

When we arrived here at Upper Park last summer, the fields were alive with the sounds of sheep baaing and cows mooing. (I'm talking rural Scotland here, just for context.)

It was a time of abundant poo.

A time of these weird poo-loving flies, and nosy neighbors.

It was a time of opening and closing gates. To keep the sheep in here, out of here. In there, not here. Driving up to the house meant stopping at gate one, getting out of the car, opening gate, getting back in the car, driving forward, getting out of the car, closing gate, getting back into car, driving.

And then, a little further on, doing the exact same thing again.

It was a time of... patience.

I won't even talk about the frustrations of driving through herds of sheep and cattle, except to point out that they don't always like to move.

Anyway, then came winter. The four legged beasts moved down to lower pastures. The fields were clear of everything but pheasants and quail - and the occasional deer. Granted, pheasants have their own strange relationship with automobiles. They tend to run down the track as we drive, getting more and more frantic, but continuing to follow the track. Everywhere it turns they turn. As does our car...

Last month, there was the great pheasant slaughter. Lordly-folks with guns, minions to herd the birds toward them. You know how it goes. Feathers flew. Birds splattered. After that...

Ah, the solitude.

Gradually, the poo dissolved. The flies vanished. Saba (our carnivore) grew calmer without the constant moving display of prey.

Until today.

The girls are back. They arrived in all their glorious abundance. Oh joy.

The cows can't be far behind.

Oh, the flies too.

The Birks

Earlier today I had the pleasure of listening to my son recite (over and over again) the Robert Burns poem/song The Birks of Aberfeldy.

It was a school project. He had to memorize it and recite it aloud, preferrably with a solid Scottish accent. And in dialect!

The Birks are a stream side walk about ten minutes from where we live at the moment, in Perthshire, Scotland. Very pretty, waterfalls and lovely old trees and a statue of Burns sitting on a bench. (The statue kinda freaks our dog, Saba, out a bit.)

Here are the melodious choruses Sage regaled us with:

The Birks of Abergeldie.

Bony lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go;
Bony lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldy.

Now Simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the chrystal streamlets plays;
Come let us spend the lightsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldy.

The little birdies blythely sing
While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing,
In the birks of Aberfeldy.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's,
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldy.

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldy.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me;
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
In the birks of Aberfeldy.

Bony lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go;
Bony lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldy.

Personally, I think the bony lassie is quite likely to go with him...

There's more on the Birks of Aberfeldy HERE.

Colors, Colours...

My daughter, Maya, every now and then gives us little glimpses of her life outside of our house. Tonight she mentioned that the kids in her school - the Breadalbane Academy in Aberfeldy, Scotland - don't know much about America. (Weird that, considering... um, what's on tv over here.)

Apparently, she mentioned that she lived in California for a while. True enough. It got her a barrage of questions.

Question: "Were you in a gang?"

Answer: "A gang? No."

Question: "Did you have a gun?"

Answer: "What? No!"

Question: "Did your dad have a gun?..."

It went on like that for a while. By the end of it, I doubt any of them believed she actually lived in Cali at all...

Wintery Upper Park

After a mild and very wet autumn, we've just had the weather turn wintery here at Upper Park...

Sure, it's pretty, but we live up a 1/2 mile track - mostly uphill (or downhill, as the case may be). We've had to park the car at the bottom of the track and hike it in and out. Here are the kids heading off to school.

Apparently, Maya's not loving it...

Some pics from a trip we did up to Rattray Head on the Northeast coast of Scotland a little while back. It's supposed to be the sunniest spot in Scotland, and during our stay there it lived up to that. We stayed in a hostel made from converted buildings from the lighthouse. Had the place to ourselves and exploded throughout it!

Saba was welcomed with a dog bed, biscuits and food dishes. He was much pleased. He was even more thrilled when he got a view of the sand dunes. Here he is positively hovering with joy...

 

Stretching his legs...

Us acting silly...

An old shipwreck...

And a bridge we crossed over on the way home...

I've Joined Him Again

Jon Armstrong has kindly posted a podcast interview he did with with me for his ongoing series If You're Just Joining Us. He gets me talking about Acacia, YA, writing rituals and Scotland.

If you'd like to have a listen you can do so HERE.

Jon's a great guy, and a wonderful writer himself. We first met when we were both in competition for the John W Campbell Award. We've kept in touch since.

Radio Scotland Weather

And I quote, from today's forecast:

"The showers will die out before the bands of rain move in."

The View From The Kitchen On A Summer Evening

Some Scotland Pics

Gudrun just posted some pics of the house she and kids are now settled into.

Take a look if you're interested: HERE.

That little cabin-like thing... That's where I'm going to write my Spartacus novel!

Moving. I'm Moving.

Figured I should mention it since the day of departure is actually rather near. I'm moving. If you've visited the old blog here you'll know that it's not the first time. I'm in Massachusetts now, but not too long ago I was in Fresno, CA. Before that I was in Colorado Springs, CO. Before that Shutesbury, MA. Before that Dunkeld, Scotland. Before that some variation (not necessarily in this order) of: Lake Tahoe, CA... Forneth, Scotland... Albertville, France... Basalt, CO... Hadley, MA... Coloma, CA... Portland, OR... Eugene, OR... Annapolis, MD... Edinburgh, Scotland...

Okay, I should stop. That covers about fifteen years, give or take a few small moves that don't merit mention. So, I've gotten around. No, I've not been running from the law. I'm really not that other David Anthony Durham. For most of these moves I've been married and dragging two groovy kids around behind me. I'm a writer; my wife's a knitwear designer; we both work from home and aren't too tide to any one locale. That remains the case. This time, though, the wife and groovy kids are leading the way. They're heading back to Scotland in just a few weeks. (For the record, my wife is Scottish. More about her HERE.) I've got some teaching and some events to do (Stonecoast, Clarion, ComicCon!) and then I'll be joining them.

Photo moment. This what I look like in Scotland, hanging out with Scots. Chillin.

Our new home? We'll be landing in lovely, totally picturesque Aberfeldy. You can check the Visit Aberfeldy website if you want to take a gander at the place. (JK Rowling used to have a house there. Maybe she still does. Maybe I'll stop in and say hello...)

I do know the area. I lived not far from Aberfeldy before. I even raft guided on the River Tay for a while. Great place to recreate. To take long walks. To get wet. To bluster. To write books. (Good internet, too, so I'll likely be blogging more.)

I've been back and forth to Scotland quite a few times even since moving back the US, but I haven't lived there since my first UK publication - Hannibal: Pride of Carthage. Very pleased, then, to be going back as a writer with a few books published in the UK. (Let's hope that continues.) I've already signed up to go to British FantasyCon in Brighton this September, and I've got promises from Charles Stross and Hal Duncan to drag me around Edinburgh and Glasgow, meeting literary types. Should be great fun.

I'm looking forward to it for many, many reasons.

So, when you're planning your next European vacation, consider Scotland. There's a lovely bookstore/cafe in Aberfeldy. We could meet up for a coffee...