Hold Fast

My thots tonight are caught up in the wild sounds of highland music and the deep, sometimes dark passions that rise out of the rugged mountains and cold winds that make up that forbidding country.

In contrast to the unforgiving nature of the land, the people found their lives like that of the fires in their huge hearths. Lusty, loud, and loving on the outside, roaring through one tragedy after another, unable to yield even the tiniest amount if they were to survive. Soft and sentimental on the inside, so warm and in love and loving that their great hearts broke even as their claymores slashed down with frenzied fierceness upon those who would destroy them.

The women bore one child after another while defending their homes and fields, weaving their plaids and never knowing which man, or son would not come home next. They were a hardy lot, hiding their tears in their work, appearing much sterner than they felt.

And after Culloden, many came to this new world where my distant ancestors, related to Thomas Boyd who died shortly after 1469, but was described by his wife, Princess Mary of Scotland, as “the most courteous, gentlest, wisest, kindest, most bounteous knight and fairest archer, devoutest, most perfect and truest to his lady.“ were drawn by the Highlands of the Carolinas and settled their proud bodies and brave hearts into the city of Charleston.

Just a piece of me, but a piece I am proud to own. Good people with more honor than wealth.