The north end of Hoy must be the wildest part of Orkney. Peat and heather covering the hills where few houses dare to lay foundation, preferring to seek the relative to cluster together on the few patches of arable land down near the shore.

At this time of year the heather is brown, the peat is brown even the water in the burn and the lochan beside Betty Corrigal's lonely grave is brown. some might say it was a bleak and depressing place but they would be wrong.

I stood by her grave a young woman condemned to lie in the peat in that no mans land between parishes by an world unforgiving of the distress of an unmarried pregnancy that caused her to take her own life.

Here it was I saw the beauty that had been gifted to her. Tiny flowers sheltering among the sturdy heather stems like the bright sparks from a disturbed peat in the hearth. wild violets peep shyly up at you as you walk by and the small orchid tries valiantly to catch your attention others sprinkle the pathside with yellow and white.

The wind is harsh as it funnels down the valley between the hills carrying the salty spray far inland. People will tell you nothing grows here but the heather but people are often wrong. Like the Orcadians themselves the plants stay low to avoid the wind they don't blaze and brag but the beauty is there for those who take the time to look for it.

There is an old Scots saying "Guid gear in sma buik" which translates as good things come in small packages.