From the shame of my own speechless stupor.

I can just keep staring out over the hills, watching the haar slink in from the sea. Smothering the strath in its Stephen Kingishness. And my mind with it.

The view from my window, mid-morning.

Smug in the knowledge that somewhere, out there, another blogger is doing my job.

Bless you, Josh, IOU!

PS. Don’t miss the many entries on glass art and artists on this blog. It’s truly brilliant.

Over at Warm Glass, Toni just pointed out that I’m neglecting my blog - again. What can I say? She’s right. I’m back in the Scottish Highlands. It’s the 58th parallel. It’s two days away from the Winter Solstice. The beginning of the day looks like this:

The end of the day looks like this:

In between there’s about three hours of daylight.

I should spend it blogging?

I was warned.

They told me that that I’d run out of babble; that I’d get bored with my own writing; that no one would comment (unless I picked a fight); that some ITiot would switch me over to different blog software and I’d have to learn a New Trick (just kidding, Chris)…etc etc.

My own special gray soup. A bit like Dunbeath harbor when the haar rolls in…

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Clearly I dropped the ball somewhere between Day Three and Day Eight. But the class didn’t.

On the afternoon of the last day, participants shared their results and discoveries. Looking back at the first day of sketching and note-taking, I was truly impressed at how many of the early images and ideas had been transformed into glass - sometimes substantively, occasionally literally, always quite personally.
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Day Three of class ended with a hike down the 365 cliff-clinging stone steps of Whaligoe harbor.
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