MY VISIT TO CAWDOR CASTLE SCOTLAND

 I got a "crackers" red dress from my sister, one that a friend had paid a good sum for and was not prepared to take to OXFAM, it turned out to be too slim for Jean, so I tried it on and it fit exactly. What was I to do, it is a warm wool and very comfortable to wear, it has almost leg-of-mutton-shoulders...its not my style, not even a dressing up shape that could be amusing, well I decided that as we were going to see Cawdor Castle this red dress would do for "Lady MacBeth" and wore it there. 

 

Jean and I saw around the lovely little Castle, then went a long walk in its extensive woods, also lovely, in places we were dwarfed by the huge Redwood trees. Then the intimacy of the neatly hedge-filled gardens full of late Autumn flowers made the day memorable. 

 

What wonderful trees there were outside in the grounds leading up to the Castle too, one entered through an enormous canopy of them, and I saw that those coming in stopped to take it all in, just there, even taking photo's of the ceiling of leaves they found themselves under, the light of the sky cut off, the green glow through the leaves felt like some kind of benediction from nature. On appearing from under them their steps fell on the green swards, beautifully kept, and their eyes regarded the warm coloured stone walls of this little neat shaped, turreted embattled house, the draw bride down and the shield over the entrance proudly stating "Be mindful", probably in Latin, but I don't remember. 

 

I felt properly dressed for the occasion and even toyed with the idea of letting my hair down to fit in. Into what you say, into the atmosphere of intrigue and drama that has been enacted and imagined in this very Castle.

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My comment to Mand's poem Lord of the Manor made me put this funny little bit in with it for fun too:-
 

I have been there, I was there in 2008 when I did a tour of GB friend to friend.

 

My sister lives near Inverness so we visited that wonderful little castle with the great and magic forest peeping in at the windows,(redwoods too!) and the river quietly slipping past on its orange sandy beaches and small stones; the toadstools were not hiding elves, but perhaps I didn’t look well enough; and in the gardens where the ghosts of lovers past were wandering through the rose arches and avenues; the huge canopy of beech trees making a fitting parasol as one entered in the dappled sunlight.

 

Ah yes And then there was the castle itself with its mysterious stories, not to mention “Out damned spot, out I say!” and Shakespeare’s connection with its atmosphere. And way out in the Scottish Highlands where the Battle of Cullodden Moor was fought and Bonnie Prince Charlie, and the skirl o’ the pipes eerily echoing to this day among the copses and heather’d hills, blood running in the becks and tears of rain still hanging on every leaf, grass blade and eddy of wind. Ah the atmosphere of things past doesn’t escape enhancing the world of today, its all a case of being AWARE is it not mand?

Big sigh Scotland and its castles, but also castles everywhere they have inside them the same atmosphere where the ghosts of the past seem to whisper in ones ear about secret happenings and one stands in silent awe of their tales.
Love to all from Ann.