Peigi MacKillop

@peigibheag

Heritage, archaeology, cooking, art, fashion, Gaelic, Berneray. Ex-librarian, ex Oracle admin. I have my books, and my poetry to protect me. 💙 NHS

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Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· 28d

Another beautiful day in the neighbourhood @redskies.bsky.social #NorthUist

The gable end of a traditional house. Barn or byre opposite over a tarmac road. There is green meadow in foreground with a still bay and small islands in the background.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 12

I've got an orchid. No mow May turned into July. Sorry not sorry.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 12

Was it at the ferry slipway?

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 11

A red haired woman sits beside her wonderful father. We sit on a stone bench he made. He loved me fierce

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 11

Out of my window, my favourite place.

Bright blue sky with fluffy clouds. Grass in foreground, then a strip of blue sea and islands in background

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 11

It really is

Uist, outer Hebrides. Blue sky above white sands with seaweed rocks in foreground

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 11

Flora (2) I Walk House to garden Garden to shore To gather you in coffee jars Shore to bus Bus to house I am a woman of hours Fine fingertip feeling Acute measurement I will place The smallest of you Gleaming In the low Uist light And you will be Glorious #PegsPoyums

A woman's hand holding two bright, white cockle shells

https://www.glasgowlife.org.uk/museums/art-extraordinary/flora-johnstone

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 10

Low sun in North Uist is special. 21:51pm.

View of a hallway with white corridor and doors that are open. At the end is a peek of wooden bed rails. Bright rectangles of sunlight light the corridor

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 6

DNA (2) In harshly-lit mirrors I see my father Or sometimes Euphemia Our DNA is hard Our features soft * Once the snow-melt Of their faces is gone I hope I can remember In reflection #PegsPoyums

A small woman in a plaid coat. Her brother who loves her very very much has an arm around her. I wish them happiness in the afterlife.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 6

Yes indeed.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 6

And I'll sail her up the West Coast. Through villages and towns.

Scottish loch, still. Tiny islands in the middle, the view fringed by lush trees and on the right a spectacular bloulder

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jul 4

The dreich drink o' the drookit

A wine bottle on a windowsill. The window looks on to a lush green garden surrounded by shrubs. It is very wet and rainy.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jun 25

Currently washing the hand-loomed blankets (by his mother) of a beloved empty chair man. Still so sad.

A blanket of brown and mustard draped over a garden railing. It has striped edges of blue, orange and mustard.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jun 25

Reminds me of the Outer Hebrides

A white sand beach with small islands in the distance and a turquoise blue sky studded with bright, white fluffy clouds

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jun 21

Calm...

A small trail of buildings over a sunny sky. A sunny bay is beneath

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jun 21

Final Rhubarb

Right from when she was walking, she was in among the rhubarb. Couldn't have that on other farms, too dangerous, but we do all our picking by hand, damages the roots you see, to cut the plants. Now she runs the show and I'm a farm-hand. But I'm right chuffed, her rhubarb cocktail recipes are in the best hotels in London and our rhubarb's protected now, just like Champagne.

Every night, in the season, I come into the largest shed and light a few candles. That's how we pick them, by candle-light. I've got an old deck-chair in there so I can sit back with my brew and a ginger snap. You can hear the rhubarb growing, it's not a myth. When the buds first break through the roots, there's a crack. And they're growing two inches a day, looking for a light that isn't there, so you can hear rustling as the leaves move by one another. In the glow from the flames they look like a space-crop, not like something you'd grow here in Yorkshire. I feel a bit sorry for a man who can't sup a cup of tea and listen to the rhubarb grow.

Maybe one day I'll fall asleep and let the candles burn down, an' I'll have to find my way out in the dark.

Doesn't matter, The Gaffer would come and get me.

Peigi MacKillop@peigibheag· Jun 21

Photograph / Mum I show him the picture Do you know her? Yes, he says I think At one point Perhaps Once She might have Been my wife #FathersDay #Dementia