A Robbie Burns Ramble

 

        I roamed between the California central coast and Scotland as I rambled by the Pacific and climbed a hill today. Scots tend to celebrate this day, Robbie Burns day.

        He's the national poet of Scotland and since shortly after his death in 1796 Robbie Burns days have been celebrated with dinners and drink and bagpipes. There will be no Haggis on our menu today though we'll take a wee dram and hoist a toast. We've already listened to the pipes.

        I've been reviewing our August and September 2019 sojourn to the homeland and marveling that, has Lana notes, we were fortunate to have traveled then, pre pandemic.

    

        I'm certain the family that occupies the old home pile in Renfrew will observe indeed and express the fierce independence of Scotland the Brave. That is especially so now that Parliament is on the path to another vote for Independence from the English crown and the UK.

        There is much of the Scots political and social mindset that would do this nation well. 

And so as I climbed the hill and crossed the crest, I enjoyed the beauty of creation, all the while accompanied by a monarch butterfly that picked me for a tag along as I began the stroll.

        All the way the roar of the surf and on the higher trail bird song and my friend the monarch. Along the lower sea side trail we were joined by a curious heron.

    

        On the way home I spotted early blooms,

            

        and I convinced myself that Robbie Burns could find reason for toast in this splendid day.

    

        Aye!

        Slante'

        See you down the trail.