After spending a few days decompressing between the US and a small village in central Scotland, I finally got dressed and went for a little walk – wanted to buy some biscuits (without chocolate–poor me) and stretch my legs. I walked up to the main street and turned right. After a couple of blocks I saw a sign which read “Kirk Wood”. In Scotland, Kirks are churches, of course, and do have yards; I didn’t know they also had woods.Walking down the lane, a man walking a liver-and-white Springer and an older woman walking a Westie, approached. As is my habit, I spoke. That’s all they needed to break into conversation. He introduced himself as John; she is Missrez Mack-knot-ton(her pronunciation.) Oddly, they also introduced their dogs. Mrs. MacNaughton offered to show me the Kirk Woods, so we were off, to our left, down recently hacked and bulldozed 12-foot wide road through the woods. They explained that someone was going to build four houses in here, near the highway.

Mr. & Mrs. MacNaughton live in a cottage behind the Manse; some newcomers bought the Manse and are thinking of turning the barn and a new barn to be built into holiday rooms. They—the newcomers—were off at work today, and she was walking the dog.

Looking back on that bit of a day, I wonder again how a freckled-faced Midwestern girl could just walk down a lane into something out of “Miss Marple.”

I never thought it would be me.

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