More than 2,000 years of human inhabitation have left their mark on Skye. The island is dotted with ancient standing stones, castles and churches, ruined old forts and towers, abandoned croft homes, etc. I realize this kind of history doesn’t excite everyone. But to me, even the mundane artifacts, like this old crumbling wall near Uig, are tangible connections to the past that allow the imagination to wander off the path of everyday worries.

For a moment, at least, I’m not thinking about taxes, politics, cat meds or gas prices. Instead, I’m wondering who built this wall, and why. Maybe it was a livestock pen back in the 1800s, or the dividing line between properties. I don’t know, but I’m grateful for the momentary distraction, the intrigue, and the sense of time and perspective it provides.

This photo was taken in a place called the Fairy Glen, by the way, a strange little valley of shady groves and hundreds of conical hills that appear out of nowhere as the road dips and rises and winds along. A herd of clouds passed in front of the sun. While waiting for the light to return, I mindlessly surveyed the landscape. John and Skip were off somewhere else, and I noted the absence of any human sound. No phone, no talking, no airplane or car. For a blissful moment, I heard—and thought of—nothing but rustling leaves, birds, and an occasional distant “bah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” I think it was peace of mind.