Jerah. It's an odd name; doesn't chime with anything else around here. I like it.
Nestled behind Dumyat in the Ochil Hills, abandoned around the middle of the last century after decades as a lonely farmsteading, and now crumbling back to nature. I'm sure there's some timely allegorical link between the one structure collapsing whilst the other thrives but I'm buggered if I can put my finger on it.
Was good to have my old faithful photographer's assistant back on assignment with me today (camouflaged in the photo above),as it's a bit of rarity nowadays. A good walk and good banter in the glorious summer sunshine, whilst at one point negotiating a barricade of some very unmilitary coos (one of those statements is not very truthful) was just what was needed after a sleepless night watching parts of the planet spin out of control on social media.
We pop back up here once or twice a year, just to check-in, make sure the place hasn't disappeared completely and, today especially, take in lung-fulls of reality check.