There’s a special light beyond the curtains, an impossible radiant light that from such a small aperture should not be filling the bedroom in such a way. And I know it’s been snowing. A childish excitement urging me to be up and out. There is no time for a sneak-peak, the room too cold and I pull on layer after haphazard layer of clothing, with total disregard as to what I might look like. With the curtains drawn I see that for once the forecast was not wrong. Easter Monday had been the start of filming and in blizzard conditions I had marveled at how they had managed to get all the interior shots they required and only eight minutes behind schedule. Timing is everything along with good planning, and they assured me they were used to this sort of thing when filming in the Outer Hebrides. But blizzards at Easter, surely not. When they’d been to do a reconnoiter of the house in mid-March it was fine, and I had imagined by early April with the daffodils out it would be looking perfect for a children’s fantasy film. When they came to do the set preparation the sun was out to the point that they sat outside for a picnic lunch. It seemed impossible that in three days there would be snow, surely not, the forecast must have got it wrong again. On Sunday the wind came belting in bitter from the north, north west snapping and I was thankful that spring in the form of tender new shoots had for the most part not yet arrived. My walk out onto the moor had been a determined stagger, headlong into the wind rather than the usual stroll up the quarry track.
After a morning of lashing horizontal rain the afternoon brought a change with clearing skies and the temptation of sun. I’d already been blown up to the top of the hill to post two letters and doubted if I’d manage to battle my way back, so instead I completed the New Tolsta loop on the lower road. Back in my studio I wondered if Donald and the dogs would be venturing out, and by three o’clock could wait no longer. This might turn out to be the only dry point of the day, and with that snow forecast it was now or never. So, fully waterproofed I headed of on the quarry track to the moor. I got no further than the quarry when a light shower stinging my face forced me to seek shelter behind Mackay’s digger. It passed quickly and I continued head down, resolutely determined, plodding my way up the track. At the first bend the blustering wind increased as I proceed my random staggering into the north westerly. There is nothing better than experiencing the full force head on, however I wasn’t prepared for the blast at the final bend that brings Loch Diridean and the distant high ground of Muirneag into view. It hit me sideways and nearly had me off the track into the adjacent peat bog. The end of the track, and my goal was in site and I wasn’t turning back till I’d reached it. At the end I sat watching the surface of the loch turn from ripples to waves, and far out across the moor towards Barbhas darker clouds approached. No lingering today, and so I turned to be unceremoniously nudged back along the track, feeling like a child being less than politely ushered from a room where his presence was not required. The forceful and random hand of nature encouraging me towards the door. As I staggered back down the track the wind abated until at the mill burn there was barely a breath of wind. How could there be such a difference, or was this the storm over. One glance at the scudding clouds told me otherwise and reaching home a final gust hurled me towards my front door. I could feel the air pressure from within as I pushed it open and it closed firmly behind me. Time for tea and toast well earned. Even then I doubted that snow would be here in 24 hours, maybe on the mainland, but not here.
The gritter was round early on Easter Monday, but today no sign of any vehicles. There would be no film crew today as they were scheduled to shoot within the comfort of Stornoway Arts Centre. Here those daffodils that showed above the snow looked as if they've had enough, defeated by the wind chill factor. I would have a calm days stitching with no need for chocolate eggs or any other light than that which came from the window. A whiter than white, blue bright snow light.
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