Oh Rowan Tree...

I saw the most beautiful rowan tree today...more on that later.

After another lazy morning enjoying the sun on the little pond, we headed to Aberfeldy for lunch.  

Being on the lookout for a 60th birthday gift for our brother-in-law Kenny, who very much enjoys a single malt, we thought a trip to Dewars Distillery was in order.  They have a cafe so two birds with one stone.  Of course we hadn't reckoned on the majority of the tables in their cafe being reserved for those who'd been on the distillery tour for their after tour whisky tasting, but the kindly found us a table and we enjoyed delicious bowls of homemade vegetable soup and cheese scones.  

A wander in their shop afterwards led us to the perfect gift for Kenny, a bottle of Royal Brackla 18 year old single malt.  I can now relax :-)

We had a quick stop at Thyme Bistro for ice cream on the outskirts of Aberfeldy, and that's where I saw this magnificent rowan tree.  We sat under it as we ate our ice cream listening to the breeze gently rustle its leaves.  It sounded as good as it looks.  Photo of tree in all its glory in extras.

Rowan trees are my favourite tree.  They are officially Scotland's second favourite tree (Scots Pine is no 1)  In Celtic mythology it's known as the Tree of Life and symbolises courage, wisdom and protection from witchcraft and enchantment, and for that reason people in Scotland (and around the world) have been planting a Rowan beside their home since ancient times.  You would be hard pushed to find any Scot willing to cut a rowan tree down.

I grew up with a rowan tree in our front garden.  Born in the era where parents were told it was healthy for their children to be outdoors in all weathers, as a baby I would be put into my pram after each feed, cosied in with blankets and soft wooly hats in winter and my chubby little legs left blanket-free to kick on warm summer days, and left under the rowan tree which performed it's duty as a living play mobile beautifully.  

I remember holding doll's tea parties under its shade as I got older, and holding my grandpa's hand as he carved our initials into its trunk with his trusty old pen knife.  I remember the glorious red berries that I used to cut off, along with a stem of leaves and put into a tall glass to be placed on the kitchen widow sill, my first attempts at "flower" arranging :-)) And I remember crying my eyes out in 2011 when it was destroyed when my childhood home was demolished as part of the regeneration of the village.

There's a Scottish song called Oh Rowan Tree that is as much loved as the tree itself.  It was written by Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne (1766-1845) who was born and raised not far from where we now live.  (Fascinating info on her here if you're interested :-)  It's my favourite Scottish song (a joint first with When you and I were young Maggie, which my grandpa used to sing to my gran)

I can't read the words or hear the music without tears forming but I did manage to hum it a little as we sat there today.  A few magical moments as memories came flooding back.  I will include the lyrics and a link to the song at the end.  

We were supposed to go to Killin afterwards to see the Falls of Dochart but time was marching on and it was such a lovely afternoon we decided to return to the cottage and enjoy sitting in the garden with our books and the ducks.  David even managed to squeeze in nine holes at Kenmore before darkness fell.

Another perfect day.  We have been so lucky with the weather so far.  The rain was thundering down during the night but it's been blue skies and sunshine all day.  I'm too scared to look at tomorrow's forecast!

Anyhoo, here's the lovely song beautifully sung unaccompanied by Maggie M Broadley.  


Oh! rowan tree, oh! rowan tree, 
Thou'lt aye be dear to me, 
En twin'd thou art wi' mony ties 
O' hame and infancy. 
Thy leaves were aye the first o' spring, 
Thy flow'rs the simmer's pride; 
There was na sic a bonnie tree 
In a' the countrie side. 
Oh! rowan tree.


How fair wert thou in simmer time, 
Wi' a' thy clusters white, 
How rich and gay thy autumn dress, 
Wi' berries red and bright. 
On thy fair stem were mony names, 
Which now nae mair I see; 
But thy're engraven on my heart, 
Forgot they ne'er can be. 
Oh! rowan tree.

We sat aneath thy spreading shade, 
The bairnies round thee ran, 
They pu'd thy bonnie berries red, 
And necklaces they strang; 
My mither, oh! I see her still, 
She smiled our sports to see, 
Wi' little Jeanie on her lap, 
And Jamie on her knee. 
Oh!, rowan tree.

Oh! there arose my father's prayer 
In holy evening's calm; 
How sweet was then my mother's voice 
In the Martyr's psalm! 
Now a'are gane! We meet nae mair 
Aneath the rowan tree, 
But hallowed thoughts around thee 
Turn o'hame and infancy. 
Oh! rowan tree.