This is a ‘peedie’ letter from North Ronaldsay just to let you know that we are still to the fore – I have a longer one up my sleeve ready to present one of these days: it was written much earlier in the summer.

Not so long ago, the ‘merry dancers’ lit up the northern sky for a night or two, and earlier in the week – this is Friday September 13 – an orange coloured, crescent moon shone just above the horizon for a short time. On September 21 she will be full, and a day or two later it will be the autumnal equinox. That is the time of the Harvest Moon.

I should think that in Orkney, there will not be many ‘hairst’ fields with the old fashioned sheaves, stooks and stacks to be seen.

In North Ronaldsay we are down to just one field of oats. Forty years ago, give or take a few either way, at this time of year there would have been many fields of stooks on the island, and folk would be beginning the real ‘hairst’ work. It seems to me that there is a great miss of those days, and although the work was not always that easy, it was lightsome and the sense of achievement was very much a feature of our island existence.

The part that I really enjoyed was when folk got together to help – that was fun, as was the celebrations afterwards.

Recently, at a good turnout in the community centre, Dr June Morris gave a fascinating talk on the North Ronaldsay native sheep, which included diagrams and photographs. This was a preview of her presentation at the Orkney Science Festival. A lively and lengthy question and answer session followed before tea and biscuits were served. And still on the subject of the native sheep, over the last two days a few ‘punds’ have been organised when some good animals were selected for sale. This communal ‘punding’ and the necessary repair of the sheep dyke, from time to time, is very interesting to think about. It is an activity, and indeed a commitment, which goes back many years into the past, and I suppose, even with our much reduced work force, some form of communal management procedures will continue for as long as the sheep remain.

Well that’s about it. The weather is still fine and exceptionally mild with the last couple of days being fairly misty. There is a grand scent from the honeysuckle and the fuchia trees are still festooned with scarlet bells. Another flower in bloom at this time of year is the colourful montbretia. Here and there in fields, or along the road sides, there are displays of the tall sow thistles. They look rather dignified, I always think, with their long stalks and bold yellow faces, I can almost imagine them saying, “Why are you looking at us? Hurry along, don’t dilly-dally”. However, time shortly to stop this as I see it is almost one o’ clock in the morning.

Before I do finish though, as I listen to the foghorn, it occurs to me on one hand, that advanced technology ended the profession of lighthouse keeper: automation replaced the men and their families thereby reducing the island population. Yet, on the other hand, this very same advance in technology (computers etc.), with additional assistance and a more flexible employers’ attitude, could make it possible for young folk to work from North Ronaldsay.

Captain Robbie Sutherland from Stromness, mentioned this idea at one of our Harvest Homes. With a more frequent plane service, there is no reason why workers could not spend at least some of the week operating from the island. Is there really a need to be at one’s ‘desk’ at nine every morning? Provided extra houses were available and with a sort of multi-purpose building as a base, a number of young folk would still be part of the North Ronaldsay community. In terms of population and age, that would make the greatest difference to the island.

It’s now well after one and this will not do at all! I wonder if it will be a brighter day tomorrow? For the present, I know that it is still misty, as every minute that comes and goes I can hear the foghorn sounding mournfully in the damp darkness of the night.

Postscript

Since I wrote the above letter, time has passed. This is now September 28 and the weather is still reasonably fine. The field of oats I mentioned was built into stacks on fresh ‘hairst’ day, and tattie work has commenced with at least one croft having completed their gathering. Both jobs were easily accomplished for, as it happened and as they say, ‘many hands make light work’.

But autumn is definitely in the air, and today, when I was out and about, two great ‘V’ formations of wild geese flew over the island, calling loudly. I tried to roughly count their number and I should think there would have been at least two or three hundred, and their ‘honking’ could be heard even when they had become a thin, dark line in the southern sky.

When I began this letter, the moon was in its first quarter; now she is in her last, and tonight she is still shining with sufficient brightness to cast a silvery sheen on the eastern sea.

Well, there we are, but for the moment it will be goodbye to September and goodbye to the old ‘hairst moon’.