'Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land" The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Sir Walter Scott
My last trip back to my Scottish Borders was filled with anticipation. I was finally going to get the chance the capture the beauty of my homeland. Growing up as a child in the Borders for 17 years you never quite get to appreciate how special and scenic your homeland is - you very much just take it for granted. I'm now approaching my 33rd birthday, and it is only now, sitting reflecting on my past for this blog post, that I realise that I am now reaching the time where I have nearly spent as much living out of my homeland as I did living in it. Where did that suddenly come from? It does not seem like 16 years ago that I was packing my bags to start out on my journey, firstly to complete my education at the University of Edinburgh, but has ultimately ended up living in County Kildare in Ireland and having travelled to the east and west sides of our world. It is this travel that has allowed me to appreciate the rolling hills, forestry and moorland of my home.
Sadly, the weather in the Borders could not have been worse and the camera remained in the bag all weekend. It was only on our last day in Edinburgh, that the skies briefly cleared to allow the sun pick out the architectural features on the Scott Monument. Constructed to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, a novelist, poet, Sheriff-Depute of Selkirk, Principal Clerk to the Court of Session at Edinburgh and one of Scotland's most renowned writers, the Monument sits in the heart of Edinburgh. Its architecture is inspired by the architecture of Melrose Abbey and Roslin Chapel and at over 200ft high, provides 360 degrees views over Edinburgh. Scott, born in Edinburgh, made his home, Abbotsford House, on the banks of the River Tweed in the heart of the Scottish Borders. Home.