Christmas Day

A. Mary Lindsay

As I withdraw the curtains the brilliance of the sun dazzled me. The view from my window gave me a glimpse of the Hills beyond. The air was crisp and frosty. Hoar frost had made the branches of the tree below my window glisten like a display of intricate jewellery.

I had approached my retirement with a sense of adventure, seeing it not as an end of an enjoyable and reasonably successful career but as a completely new beginning; with new opportunities opening up, new areas of learning to be embraced.

Was it really only four weeks since I had retired to Scotland; another immigrant, lured by the splendour of its scenery?

To-day was Christmas, my first Christmas in Scotland, with nowhere to go, no-one to see or visit - just me and the day ahead.

Washed, dressed and breakfasted - what would I do now? Go to Church? Maybe, - may be not. The clear, blue the sky seemed to confirm the optimistic weather forecast of a bright, sunny day; no rain, snowstorms or fog.

Mountains, Lochs and Castles, surely that's what Scotland was famous for. I might not get all three in one day but maybe a real experience of the first two might be a suitable Christmas gift to myself.

I took out a map and, having decided on a destination, assembled a picnic of hot soup in one thermos, hot coffee in the other, salad, cold meat, some buttered brown bread and a mince pie. What more could I want.

It was not long before I was on the road, heading toward Loch Earn.

The A85 out of Perth was deserted. Very soon an imposing, almost square building on my right, standing guard over green fields, caught my attention. The Road sign informed me that this was Huntingtower. The name sounded familiar, so I pulled up to look at this darkly brooding, solitary sentinel, suddenly remembering John Buchan's adventure story, based in and around this fortress, read - I don't know how many years ago.

Heading toward Crieff, the hoar frost had melted and the hedges were glistening with translucent drops of water, sparkling like diamonds, wherever the sun caught them full on. Who needed Christmas decorations when nature provided them so abundantly?

I caught myself humming a Christmas Carol. It must have been '0 come, all ye faithful' because I remember thinking that, often subconsciously, it is Faith which drives us on in life, Faith in the Order of Things, Faith in a purpose for living. Life's task seems to be to look for and find that purpose and follow it, again in Faith. That's what Christmas was all about - having Faith, seeing the Star and following it, even when that star is hidden behind clouds of doubt and stormy set-backs.

To-day my path was smooth, sun light dancing on the surfaces of the still damp tarmac. The peaks of the hills around me wore hazy coverlets of watery mist, visibly dissolving under the sun's melting kisses.

It wasn't until I got to Crieff that I began to encounter some traffic. Children, skipping, dolls' pram pushing, teddy bear hugging or, rather shakily, roller skating were obviously taking their precious toys to Church, with proud parents watchfully following them. Should I stop and go to Church too? Definitely NO! I longed to feel the awe inspiring magic of Christmas, which I hoped to find amid the Hills and the Loch side, not in the noise of platitudinous, undoubtedly faith affirming hymns or sermons.

Once past Comrie the landscape was to me, the incomer, both awe inspiring and deeply thought provoking, reflecting how these hills, sentinels and gateways for thousands of years, changed their colours with the seasons yet never gave up their deepest secret of their first creation, which brought them into being.

How many tales of joy and sorrow, how many generations of clans gathering here to invoke their gods, serve their chiefs and defend their land had these hills seen?

Having the road to myself I continued to drive very slowly, savouring the views, the landscape, the experience, eventually arriving at and parking in a broad lay-by, overlooking the great expanse of Loch Earn stretching out as far as I could see, bounded by sun lit hills.

The Sun was dancing on the gentle swell of the waves as they lapped the shore, polishing small stones into a jigsaw of many colours. The hills around embraced me like bronze-gold temples of eternity, seeing all yet divulging nothing except to testify to that First Cause which had shaped the forces of all Creation.

The simple picnic seemed like a banquet, some of it shared by a few daring little sparrows.

I must have sat for some two hours, absorbed in the grandeur and the peace of this small part of Creation, my thoughts retrospective yet also forward looking, with waves of tranquil thanks and hope blessing this special Christmas Day for me.

Eventually a few families, taking gentle exercise after their Christmas Lunch, came into view at the Loch's shore and path. ft was time to head home.

Days like this, inspiring me to look inward, outward and forward, making me keenly aware of my small part in the scheme of millions of years of ever-changing Creation, don't happen very often but, when they happen on Christmas Day, they are very special and stay in the memory, retrospectively turning into a strength and hope giving oasis when dark clouds hide the sun.