* * *
The breezes off Loch Awe rippled the grasses in the churchyard as Ian tried to position his video camera to its maximum advantage while taking care to shield it from the elements and hide it from view. He’d thought about placing it inside the kirk, but it seemed like too great an invasion of privacy. People from all over the world dropped by the kirk to say their confessions and pray, and in Ian’s humble estimation, he had no right to spy on what was done and said inside the church’s walls.
His heart already felt a bit lighter as he locked the doors to the manse and tucked his backpack in the boot of his car. Who knew what the future held for Chelsea and Greg, Emily and Benjamin, or even himself for that matter – except God, of course. But he did know for certain that getting away from Loch Awe for a few days always helped to renew his spirit and sharpen his focus.
He was just about to climb into his car when he spotted another clump of thistles growing beside the main pathway to the kirk. It was half-hidden under a rhododendron bush – maybe he’d missed it. Maybe it had sprung up in the last few days. The sunshine had made everything green and plants and weeds alike were growing quickly.
Well, that was that. This one would have to wait until he got home. He turned and looked up at the outline of St. Conan’s turrets and spires.
It was a glorious day, and he intended to go out and enjoy it to the fullest. Abundant life indeed.
Bonus!
First chapter of
the first book in the Wildflowers of Scotland series.
Wild Rose
Thistle Down Page 14