The Blood Calls in Scotland

Scotland. I am half scottish but it at times feels so far removed from me. We drove eight hours from London to get there and stayed at my aunt’s farm. The thing about Scotland is that it is so green. Rolling hills, fluffy sheep and horses it fills up the countryside with it’s beauty. It really is a feast for the eyes and the spirit to be there.
My aunt’s farm is near Perth. It has been with them for more than a hundred years. There is something altogether magical and peaceful about looking out the window. You can smell the wood through the walls, and the fresh chilly air. There is little to do there but sit back and drink it in. We stayed there three glorious days where I ate fresh strawberries with creme freche, frollicked with the black lab and read bedtime stories to my little cousin. I could live this life, yet I wonder if I would start to feel restless after awhile…. Coming to Oxford and then London after being in Haifa and Scotland has certainly given me a shock to the system. London is anything but relaxed that’s for sure.

I wondered, if my mother had decided to live here how my life would have been different. I wonder how Scottish I really am. I remember looking at a weather beaten grave of my grandmother so many years ago, and realizing how little I knew of her. I have spent a long time so far away from this land, I wonder if the blood calls you. There is a history to this place, a history that traces back generations. My mother was born there, and I hope my children will see it and fall in love with it like I have. Till we meet again scotland.

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