Old Packhorse Bridge

It’s Friday again! I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe it’s nearly September. And fall. Bring it on. Anyway, hope ya’ll have had a nice week. Oops-sorry, my Oklahoma roots just popped out for a sec. Well, better that than my gray roots, I suppose. 🙂

Today I want to show you Old Packhorse Bridge. This pretty bridge is located in the village of Carrbridge, just off of the A938 in the Cairngorms National Park.

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The White Bridge and General Wade’s Military Roads

I never thought I’d be the type to geek out over a bridge. Or old military transit roads. Good gracious. Who AM I?! Someone please send help.

While heading southwest one morning on the B862, Mr. C and I came upon this interesting bridge over the River Fechlin in the tiny community of Whitebridge, Scotland.

Intrigued, we parked our car and with cameras in hand, crossed the road to get a better look.

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The Falls of Dochart

Hello friends.  What’s shakin’?  Not much around here this weekend.  I attempted to write this blog outside but good grief – the humidity!  I see it’s a balmy 65 degrees in Edinburgh right now.  What I wouldn’t give.

Today I’d like to show you a beautiful area in the Scottish Highlands that I visited on my last trip.  Located on the River Dochart at the pretty village of Killin in Stirlingshire, are the spectacular Falls of Dochart.

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Sailing Takes Me Away

Hello again, my friends.  Are you all having a nice weekend?  I sure am.  Just when My Plaid Heart thought it couldn’t physically handle another weekend of Virginia temperatures in the mid-upper 90’s, Mother Nature has finally thrown us a bone.  It is GLORIOUS outside with early fall-like temps, lower humidity, and a nice, cool breeze.  It’s short-lived, though.  Pity that the dreadful temperatures are set to return next week.  Pity indeed.

In keeping with the aforementioned cool breeze, I’d like to invite you to come along with me today as we set sail on the brackish waters of the estuary that meets the North Sea – the Firth of Forth.

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The Bridges of the Firth of Forth

The wheels on American Airlines, Flight 6404 gracefully departed the Edinburgh, Scotland runway and we rapidly ascended into the sky on the path towards home. Always a bit of a nervous flier, I tried my best to relax and breathe while our aircraft climbed ever higher.  I leaned my head back against my seat and tried to focus my mind on the wonderful memories of the previous two weeks.

Still ascending, our pilot banked a left turn.  My husband quickly turned my attention to the window where I caught sight of the massive Forth bridges rising out of the water below.  As if on cue, the floodgates opened as the realization finally hit me that I was being carried far away from the place that I love so much.

20170922_163941I stink when it comes to goodbyes.  It makes no difference if the thing I’m goodbye-ing is a person or a place.  My eyes will inevitably leak.  And, of course, my cry is never a dainty, pretty cry.  It’s quite the opposite.  As someone who normally keeps her emotions in check, this snotty outburst always renders me red, puffy, and embarrassed.  My tears on the flight that day were no exception.

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