
Crossing the burn I turn in the direction of the McGuigan house. The gable end that still stands cuts an imposing silhouette. Early morning mist rolls into the cavity where once a roof provided shelter for its occupants. In this context it lends an almost haunting feel to the slow paced peaceful mood it normally brings to the township. Work on site and in the visitor centre has occupied a majority of my time over the past month. A light breeze washes over my face. I take an inhale and with the following breath embrace the solitude this part of the day brings… Oui oui oui, merci merci merci…

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