We just visited old friends in Scotland. We’ve known Frank since 1974. He is 79 now and has had a stroke. He and his wife Frances are both psychologists like Jim and I. 

One afternoon Frances and I walked along the Firth of Forth below the Ochils Hills. Cloud and light patterned the green pastures dotted with white sheep, the bronzed barley fields, and the mud flats of the tidal river. The light reminded me of the paintings of old masters. It was European light, not at all like the flat white light of Nebraska. 

As we watched the light on the water, I said to Frances, “Who needs diamonds when we can have all this sparkle for free?”

We turned and walked along an ancient rock fence. Rosehips, hawthorn berries and blackberries gave the green and blue landscape red accents. Who can devise a better color scheme than Mother Nature?

As we approached our path’s end, a cool wind rustled the leaves in the hickory and hawthorn. Jim and I were going home tomorrow. In spite of the splendor of the day, I could feel autumn in the air.