Our last full day in Iona, Keith and I hiked to Columba’s Bay, along a winding street with cottages, walking by pastoral farms with the prettiest livestock I’ve ever seen. Sheep seemed to be almost free range. Just close the gate, the sign said. By the golf course on a trail not clearly marked, along the rugged, beautiful shore of the island. Up and down hills, through rocky terrain and heather sprinkled purple midst the green and grey. When we reached the bay, there were signs of previous play, a makeshift labyrinth and celtic cross. But the most amazing thing were the rocks. Oh so beautiful!
We picked and played for hours like two little kids. To commemorate our time together I drew a Celtic knot on one of them which now sits with candles by our bathtub.
That evening we spent in the sitting room of our hotel, the kind of place you might expect Miss Marple to walk in at any moment. I painted in my watercolor journal while Keith read.