Inside all of us is hope Inside all of us is fear Inside all of us is Adventure Inside all of us is...A Wild Thing Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things are Four Americans, four …
Author: A Musing Bear's Tales
A serious case of the Wanderlust, being out and about in nature, loving pastries and the antics of bears - think Winnie-the-Pooh and Paddington, as well as being inclined to ponder some of life's conundrums are the reasons A Musing Bear's Tales was born.
May the information I share here inspire you to, in the words of Winnie-the-Pooh, go on your own "expotitions", exploring and finding pleasure in the simple things life has to offer.
A walk on the beach in the Outer Hebrides isn’t always fun and games
...the tide was out. Along a curving swath of dune, shallow clear water washed over white sand exposing seaweed and shells and giving seabirds - oyster catchers, sandpipers - easy access to tasty, tiny morsels.
Sand, sky, sheep and sheer terror: averting misadventures on a (leisurely?) hike to Huisinis Beach
Did I screw up and misread the fine print? Did I sign up for a mountain climbing course or learn to impersonate a mountain goat? Those thoughts flashed through my mind as I carefully picked my way along a narrow, rock-covered track that rose, fell and curved along a steep mountain. I glanced up to …
Stumbling my way through the mists of time. Or: It’s a wee wet, windy and wobbly walking among the ancients — black houses, brochs and standing stones of the Isle of Lewis, Outer Hebrides
A pleasant scent - moist and earthy - signaled that peat was burning. A marker depicted an interior. Despite the homely scene - smiling occupants - I wasn't convinced that living in such circumstances was as lovely as it would have us believe.
Through wind and rain, over hills, valleys, shingle and sand: Tales of a walking holiday in the Outer Hebrides
Ripples of turquoise waves, edged with white froth, rolled onto a broad expanse of empty, white sand. Wisps of white clouds streaked a vivid blue sky. In the background, rolling hills lay in gray-green shadow. Long ago, it was this picture that first alerted me to the presence of the Outer Hebrides, islands of the north-west coast of Scotland.
Cotswolds Sojourns
Weeping Willows, branches trailing in the gentle current of the clear river Coln; birds flittered and twittered between leafy boughs; the meadow, lush and wet, was a carpet of clover, forget-me-nots and dandelions; yellow daffodils and primroses in lavender, red, white and yellow adorned pots and borders fronting dark, honey-colored stone cottages.
