On Saturday with the rain still lashing down and the road spray coming up to meet us we made our way along the M6 as we headed for Scotland and by the time we crossed the border the sun had appeared and the world looked suddenly like a veil had been lifted.
We pulled off the road just past Gretna in the sleepy little village of Dornock to eat our soup and sandwiches. We parked near to the little church we discovered on a previous visit – the one with the historical gravestones with viking links I mentioned in this post.
By now it was a long time since we ate breakfast but once our rather ravenous appetites had been fully satisfied, almost to being a little stuffed (who was it put in a bag of crisps and some biscuits), we took a gentle stroll down the lane to see what we could find.
Exploring is always a favourite pastime of mine so we followed the lane round to the right as it skirted around the bottom of the graveyard.
The wind coming across land from the Solway coast in the distance was quite forceful but for anyone with a love of the sea lying in this tiny peaceful graveyard, as overgrown and wild as the surrounding countryside, and only the sound of the wind and birdsong must surely be a heaven of its own.
To the left the lane meanders round a bend and past a cluster of outbuildings and barns and a very large house stands complete with a magnificent copper beech in the grounds and a tiny blue seat outside the gates waiting for passers by to stop and rest a while.
The verges sheltered a little from the winds by the stone wall were laden with heavy drooping branches of elderflowers.
Once back on the road we decided to take the route through the centre of Annan, a nearby small town famous for its connections to the Scottish writer and philosopher Thomas Carlyle who is know to have said ‘A man without a goal is like a ship without a rudder’ and ‘Music is well said to be the speech of angels’, amongst many other quotes.
As we sat at the traffic lights we spotted a sign ahead we had not noticed before pointing to the harbour. Now for those who do not know this area Annan is located to the north of the Solway Firth but is a little way inland so the harbour it refers to, as we found out, is on the River Annan that winds its way inland from the estuary. We followed Port Street all the way down until we couldn’t go any further and this is the harbour.
I was amazed at how narrow this channel is but it obviously does have boats going in and out at high tide. There was plenty of decay round about – some quite sad looking boats have been left to rot on the harbour side – a sorry end for some of them.
The same sad end for the Albert Hall which was thought to be a former town hall. All around Annan there are run down buildings and many run down areas that remain neglected as the local council, like in many other towns, struggle to improve or maintain them. Property is lingering unsold, or unwanted or just unloved….
….. but every so often you come across a little pocket of delight and someone who takes pride in their surroundings.
We continued our journey to Castle Douglas and just made it in time for a quick look around the impressive craft shop on the main street. Closing time in many of these small towns can be 4 o’clock but luckily for me the craft shop stays open until five. It has an expansive stock that is far better than any Hobbycraft shop over two floors and an annexe or two – you can buy anything from wool to watercolours – but on this visit I was purely ‘window shopping’ from the inside of course.
Afterwards we joined the queue for our usual tea of chip butties and a piping hot cup of tea from Moore’s award winning fish and chip shop. Saturday tea time is a busy time but well worth the wait.
Fed and watered once again we continued on to Newton Stewart so we could shop at the tiny Sainsbury’s – it was the best part of the day with the evening sun reflecting off the sea as we drove around the bay.
We usually buy fresh butter, cheese, yoghurt and milk from here together with a fresh loaf and rolls and some frozen peas rather than bring them from home. DH treats himself to a bottle of red wine and I go for the bar of dark chocolate.
At last we reach the cottage and still in daylight which is not difficult at this time of year in Scotland – even down in the south it is light until very late. So much has grown since our last visit – this is the view that greeted us from our caravan window looking out to sea – a pure mass of frothy flowers. I just love it.
Bedtime beckons…I will be back tomorrow with more tales from the garden. x
Raining all day here today – the forecast was right, but it was not heavy rain more a constant drip and drizzle so it didn’t sound like we were sitting in a tin can as caravans often do in the rain, in fact we hardly heard it at all.
I spent some time catching up with a few blogs and realised how many have fallen away recently – pressure of time, nasty commenters and some just run their course – but they are missed.
There is nothing so lovely as a few raindrops and I just had to take one or two quick snaps. I absolutely love these little cones on this pine tree they are like tiny raspberries.
It was always our greeting.   She would call out to me on arrival at the office ‘morning Miss V’ and I always responded with ‘morning Miss T’ – it stuck over the years and everyone else always addressed us as Miss V and Miss T like the shop assistants were called back in the day. Some things I still miss about working!
So far the rabbits have left them alone but I have to cover the roots of the hydrangea with large stones to prevent them digging and nibbling them. I think the ivy needs a bit more of a trim tomorrow then, weather allowing, I will be moving on to the trellis border.
It is 8 o’clock in the evening and I feel like I am in heaven – I am sitting here in the caravan with a piece of Walter Burnett’s famed Kirriemuir gingerbread (only to be found over the border) and a cup of tea, the tide is in but the sea is quite calm and has faded to a beautiful silvery grey colour and there is a general hush outside – not even a little twitter.   It is so still even the feather light plumes on the Pampas grass, which are usually dancing about on the sea breeze, are still and the only movement is the odd cow in the field to the side of us that cannot decide where the best grazing is…..and of course Rag, Tag and Bobtail hopping around on the hillside. The only thing that could make this moment any better would be if I were sitting in our cottage, but that still seems like a distant dream.
There is plenty to see along the beach, gulls flying in, gulls flying off…mysterious footprints in the sand and part buried objects and I spend some time searching our pieces of sea glass.
I love this rusty sheet of metal it is quite a work of art.
We left the beach by the hidden path to the cottages on Shore Street – one of my favourite places – there is always a seat or two along here for passing the time of day beneath a Palm tree. The carpet of daisies is like a light covering of snow.
At the far end of Shore Street is the Harbour master’s office in this little cottage. I have a feeling it is no longer used as there used to be a sign on the door.
From Shore Street and the harbour we have to climb up the hill into the centre of the village.
I just love this ladies garden (I admire it every time we pass) and in particular her clever use of the Japanese Quince edging the full length of her whitewashed wall. I might just have to pinch this idea for myself though I don’t have any painted walls and without the contrast with the white it would not have the same impact.
You may think that I have come away on a Mediterranean holiday with the Palm trees and blue skies but I assure you this really is down on the Mull of Galloway today and the photos have not been enhanced in any way.
The high road looks over the beach and harbour – such a beautiful view from up here.
The hedgerows are full of bluebells.
Just as you leave the main stretch of houses and before the doctor’s house that stands alone at the junction of the low road (which is now only a path and closed to traffic) is the Community Garden kept neat and tidy by volunteers. The scarecrow was part of the village Scarecrow Competition last summer but was so well liked it has remained in the garden since. 
Once past the doctor’s house we are nearly at our cottage – we are the last house in the village, the secret cottage hidden by the wood – I hope you will keep that quiet.
where the journey takes me 2 