HIGHLAND MISTS

Subj: Highland Mists
Date: 5/20/00 4:03:55 PM Eastern Daylight Time

When I got up this morning, there was a light rain, more of a heavy mist than a drizzle. The house was quiet, Elsa having left at 7:00 a.m. for a craft lesson in Reading on beading bobby pins, barretts and hair ties.

Sitting at my big-armed chair with a cup of coffee and a raisin cinnamon role, I went through the piles of letters that seem to spring up on, over and around the coffee table. Sifting my way through, I came across a flyer for the Fairhill (MD) Highland Gathering, being played today. Looking out at the weather, it seemed to me perfect weather for Scottish Games.

Between Pete's Scottish bloodlines and my Welsh ancestry, a lot of Celtic corpuscles pump through my childrens' hearts.

Mimmy suggested going to our first Scottish gathering, the Delco Scottish Games held at the Devon Horse Show Grounds. That must have been over 25 years ago. I remember how stirring the massed bands were - and how baking hot it was under a blazing summer sun.

On the opposite end of the barometric scale, the three of us headed down several times in early December to Alexandria VA's Scottish Walk, a long drive but well worth it.

One summer about 15 years ago, Elsa and I took in three (3) Scottish Games - in Fairhill in May, in Alexandria in July (we even stayed overnight, but that's another story), and in Pipersville (PA) in the fall.

The Fairhill Games are held on a large meadow; the ones in Alexandria took place on a high school campus, with the massed bands parading in the stadium; the Pipersville Games - the smallest by far of the lot - were held in a glen.

I loved the games in Pipersville best of all and can still see & hear & feel the band as it came the hill toward us at the bottom of the glen. It was a rare perfect moment.

Recently, it was delightful to see Lyt Patterson, Whitney's paternal grandfather, at her wedding fully kilted out in his clan's tartan and to watch her walk up the aisle on Peter's arm as a bagpiper played several stanzas of "Highland Cathedral."

What is it about the swirl of bagpipe music and the swing of a kilt that stirs my blood? I hope this Ancient One gets to see another Highland Gathering, to hear the thrill of bagpipes at least one more time.

My goodness, all these memories stirred from a misty, moisty morning.

Love to my dear laddies & lassies - Grammie Kay

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Grammie Kay's birth