Seasons

<b>Bank of Trees:</b> Every conceivable shade of green, gray, brown, yellow, orange, rust, and red is painted across the landscape, with a touch of black pigment lowering its intensity but never its beauty. ~ My Heart’s in the LowlandsBank of Trees: Every conceivable shade of green, gray, brown, yellow, orange, rust, and red is painted across the landscape, with a touch of black pigment lowering its intensity but never its beauty. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
<b>Autumn Sunshine:</b> Davina reveled in the sensation of the sun warming her face and the wind teasing her hair. According to the calendar, summer had taken wing. Perhaps the two of them might hold it captive a bit longer. ~ Grace in Thine EyesAutumn Sunshine: Davina reveled in the sensation of the sun warming her face and the wind teasing her hair. According to the calendar, summer had taken wing. Perhaps the two of them might hold it captive a bit longer. ~ Grace in Thine Eyes
<b>Month’s End:</b> ’Twas the last day of October—Hallowmas Eve—yet the skies did not portend anything frichtsome. The air was crisp, the horizon clear. Autumn’s colors had faded on the hills. ~ Whence Came a PrinceMonth’s End: ’Twas the last day of October—Hallowmas Eve—yet the skies did not portend anything frichtsome. The air was crisp, the horizon clear. Autumn’s colors had faded on the hills. ~ Whence Came a Prince
<b>Hedgerow at Traquair:</b> Oh, the colors! And the mist on the moors, and the cry of a golden plover echoing across the silent hills. ~ My Heart’s in the LowlandsHedgerow at Traquair: Oh, the colors! And the mist on the moors, and the cry of a golden plover echoing across the silent hills. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
<b>Changing Leaves:</b> The trees are at that lovely transitional stage: half covered with the green leaves of summer, the other half surrendering to autumn, draping each tree with color, like fringe on a shawl. ~ My Heart’s in the LowlandsChanging Leaves: The trees are at that lovely transitional stage: half covered with the green leaves of summer, the other half surrendering to autumn, draping each tree with color, like fringe on a shawl. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
<b>Tweed in Rain:</b> The rising mist softened the bright colors of the oak leaves, creating a muted blend of burnt orange, golden yellow, and pale brown. ~ Fair Is the RoseTweed in Rain: The rising mist softened the bright colors of the oak leaves, creating a muted blend of burnt orange, golden yellow, and pale brown. ~ Fair Is the Rose
<b>Tree in Falkirk:</b> Dawn approaches slowly and arrives with damp feet. Mist, fog, even frost may cling to the ground. Sometimes the mist is alive, swirling and crawling over the land, and other times it’s as still as a sleeping cat. ~ My Heart’s in the LowlandsTree in Falkirk: Dawn approaches slowly and arrives with damp feet. Mist, fog, even frost may cling to the ground. Sometimes the mist is alive, swirling and crawling over the land, and other times it’s as still as a sleeping cat. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
<b>Drops of Rain:</b> Autumn visits yield the best photos: not sunny and bright, but gray and misty. Photos that actually look like Scotland instead of like postcards. ~ My Heart’s in the LowlandsDrops of Rain: Autumn visits yield the best photos: not sunny and bright, but gray and misty. Photos that actually look like Scotland instead of like postcards. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
  • <b>Bank of Trees:</b> Every conceivable shade of green, gray, brown, yellow, orange, rust, and red is painted across the landscape, with a touch of black pigment lowering its intensity but never its beauty. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
  • <b>Autumn Sunshine:</b> Davina reveled in the sensation of the sun warming her face and the wind teasing her hair. According to the calendar, summer had taken wing. Perhaps the two of them might hold it captive a bit longer. ~ Grace in Thine Eyes
  • <b>Month’s End:</b> ’Twas the last day of October—Hallowmas Eve—yet the skies did not portend anything frichtsome. The air was crisp, the horizon clear. Autumn’s colors had faded on the hills. ~ Whence Came a Prince
  • <b>Hedgerow at Traquair:</b> Oh, the colors! And the mist on the moors, and the cry of a golden plover echoing across the silent hills. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
  • <b>Changing Leaves:</b> The trees are at that lovely transitional stage: half covered with the green leaves of summer, the other half surrendering to autumn, draping each tree with color, like fringe on a shawl. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
  • <b>Tweed in Rain:</b> The rising mist softened the bright colors of the oak leaves, creating a muted blend of burnt orange, golden yellow, and pale brown. ~ Fair Is the Rose
  • <b>Tree in Falkirk:</b> Dawn approaches slowly and arrives with damp feet. Mist, fog, even frost may cling to the ground. Sometimes the mist is alive, swirling and crawling over the land, and other times it’s as still as a sleeping cat. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands
  • <b>Drops of Rain:</b> Autumn visits yield the best photos: not sunny and bright, but gray and misty. Photos that actually look like Scotland instead of like postcards. ~ My Heart’s in the Lowlands

Galleries: Seasons.

3 Responses to “Seasons”

  1. Donna Constant October 8, 2012 9:59 am #

    Thank you so much for your fascinating literary work which was recently discovered by me through the Selinsgrove, PA library (yes, your home state). I asked, “What do you have on Scotland?” As I’ve been basking in your website, I wondered which photo would be the one I choose to contact you? When I saw “Tweed in Rain,” I knew. It looks just like my own view from our home on the side of a rounded, woods-covered ridge in Central Pennsylvania. (We call it Hermit Hollow Farm.) I find that at age seventy-five, four of my great-great grandparents, who emigrated from the Lowlands of Scotland and settled in Illinois/Wisconsin in the 1850’s, seem to be calling me like a squirming bundle of puppies wanting their dinner. And my desire to be surrounded with plaids is now explained by your books. One ancestor, Elizabeth Dougan, was born March 1802 in Kirkcowan Parish; her husband in Lanarkshire, the other two in Renfrewshire. You can be sure that my second trip to Scotland will be to the Lowlands.

    I’ve only obtained four of your books so far (2004-2007) and am looking forward to reading more. This website is thoroughly delightful; and now to view the rest of all you have posted!

    Donna Constant

  2. Liz Curtis Higgs October 8, 2013 7:37 am #

    Delighted to know you are enjoying my novels AND my website, Donna! More photos coming, and more stories as well. My latest is A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella, set in 1894 Stirling.

    I’ve been to Lanarkshire and Renfrewshire many times. Just typing those long, lovely names makes me want to jump on a plane bound for Scotland!

    Thanks so much for stopping by, lass.

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