While he was gone, I put on my walking shoes and went up to look at Low Knowe to see what had been done. I found that most of the grass, though not quite all, had been spread out, and, picking up a handful, I found it to be drying nicely and I drank in its sweet smell. I always enjoy walking over the land, and, from the top of Low Knowe, which I think is the highest part of our land, I looked over the rest of our fields towards the farmhouse and enjoyed the view, which always brings balm to my spirit and helps me to put things into perspective in times of stress. On this early summer evening, the sun was slowly making its way around to the west, and, at one end of the farm, I could see the black shapes of the cows and, at the other, the smaller figures of the calves, as they moved slowly over the grass, their heads down, as they grazed gently in the evening air. In the middle of the scene sat the house, the sunlight reflecting warmly from the cream paint of its thick stone walls, and its two chimneys just visible above the top of the steading buildings behind it.
I sat down, leaning my back against the ‘dry stane dyke’ and thought how my life had changed, and how fate had brought us to this beautiful place and allowed us to call it our own.