a boat floats on a glassy ocean with the mountains of the isle of arran silhouetted in the back ground. The sky is blue and bright.

I followed my own footsteps a little bit.

A repeat pattern of the same Saturday, exactly 7 weeks ago. A return and reset.

I walked down the hill to the same floating fishing pier at Kingscross, Holy Isle golden and water so calm that to breathe felt too loud.

The wind flicks at cream pages today. The water waves in sun-dappled peaks, mini mountain summits mirroring hilltop silhouettes on their shoreline trajectory.

Sometimes, you have to leave something before you know how much you love it.

Just as something has to leave you, before you know what you’ve lost.

a boat floats on choppy water. it is anchored. the sun is setting over the mountains of the isle of arran

That’s a little bit how it felt, watching the silver car that I call mine drift into the distance as I made the return journey to the mainland for the first time. There was a comfort in knowing I was anchored here. Knowing I was returning.

Leaving Arran, if only for a few hours, resets your perspective. Travelling back on a ferry full of eager tourists, you realise how lucky you are to call this place home. From mystery whales and birds that dive-bomb the sea, to seals on the shore and seaweed on the sand…they are the wildlife.

And this is my wild life.

I am so lucky to live here.

a selfie of lily in the foreground witha river behind her out in the nature of the isle of arran

Spending time on a misty Friday watching the waves on a grey Kildonan coastline, I’m reminded that this is a place cinematographers seek. Spotlight on an island, 2.67 square kilometres of hope for the future of our seas.

7 weeks ago, I’d just arrived on Arran. Everything was new and breathtaking and beautiful. And today, 7 weeks later, I’m reminded of the same.

The water is rougher now than the glossy calm of seven weeks ago.

Those buoys and moorings are the pieces that keep you afloat.

The moorings are there for a reason. To hold you in the waves. They won’t let you drown.

a beach scene with bright blue skies and small waves. an expanse of sand with a couple holding hands.

I don’t love nature any less because she’s feisty. When she rises, I owe it to her body and mine to listen. Her messiness makes her real.

What would I see if I looked down from the sky?

I’d see a woman in a pale blue coat, on a pier surrounded by sun-kissed waves, a setting sun, bobbing boats, candyfloss clouds and a sleeping mountain range.

She isn’t alone. None of us are.

Something Old: The familiarity of friends

a woody glade with a river running through it on the isle of arran. Two friends walk along the pathway under the thicket of trees. the light is bright and green.

Something New: Drysuit diving

lily is is full scuba gear with her red hair behind her. she is submerged in the sea and all around her the water looks a blue green colour. beneath her is a bed of seaweed and she is doing the OK signal for diving.

Something Borrowed: ‘Never trust an inside thought’

a deep set wooden clad window sill with a light colour curtain to the left. the view throught the window is of country side and a blue car.

Something Blue: Coire-Fhionn Lochan

a girl with long red hair is in the water at lake lochalan on the isle of arran. cuttingnthrought the centre of the image is the mountain before her green and grey. with the blue sky beyond.

love, lily xx

Love Letters From Arran : This is my wild life.