The Flemings o' Dalnoid
by Roger McKillop
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: None.
Description: Remembering a wonderful Highland couple.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Remembering a wonderful Highland couple.
The Flow'r o' Glenshee was my first poem in Scots. It was composed in the shower at Dalnoid, durin' a ski-weekend wi' the college. Ma Fleming's was a weel ken't stop efter ski-in', for a richt guid meal, at very reasonable prices. Ma was a wee person, wi' a huge he'rt an' loved tae see young people enjoyin' life. I mind when oor coach broke doon at Glenshee ski centre an' we didn't get back tae Dalnoid, where we were stayin', until 12.30 oan a Sunday night. Ma had oor tea oan the table - whit a star! I still dae a Pavlov's dug impersonation when I think aboot her pancakes wi' apricot jam - oooh drool! A local coach operator was engaged tae take us doon tae Perth, where a coach frae oor company would pick us up. Ma said cryptically, "Gie them a safe journey, Sandy," tae the driver. Efter twa high speed, tangental corners, I ken't whit she meant! Sae many skiers owe a lot tae the kindness o' this wonderful, wee woman.
The Flow'r o' Glenshee
Ye've seen aw' the flow'rs,
In simmer's green mantle,
Resplendent in fragrance,
An' colour an' light.
But there is a'e flow'r,
That blooms in mid-winter,
Tea fill us wi' pleasure,
'Mid sna' drifts an' ice.
It blooms at Dalnoid,
Abin the Blackwater,
'Neath white hielan' mountains,
Sae rugged an' free.
An' frae it springs kindness,
Wi' wry-smilin' humour,
Weel ken't here in Alba,
'Mang aw' those who ski.
Let's aw' drink a toast,
Tae send her oor love,
Sae "Here's tae Ma Fleming,
The Flow'r o' Glenshee!"
Ye've seen aw' the flow'rs,
In simmer's green mantle,
Resplendent in fragrance,
An' colour an' light.
But there is a'e flow'r,
That blooms in mid-winter,
Tea fill us wi' pleasure,
'Mid sna' drifts an' ice.
It blooms at Dalnoid,
Abin the Blackwater,
'Neath white hielan' mountains,
Sae rugged an' free.
An' frae it springs kindness,
Wi' wry-smilin' humour,
Weel ken't here in Alba,
'Mang aw' those who ski.
Let's aw' drink a toast,
Tae send her oor love,
Sae "Here's tae Ma Fleming,
The Flow'r o' Glenshee!"
I ken't Ma was in hospital an' we dropped intae Perth Royal Infirmary tae gie her some flow'rs. She was pleased tae see us - she ay'ways liked the Langside students, "A better class o' lads an' lassies?" Oh, if only she ken't! She said she'd lots o' visitors, one arrived when she was asleep an' said "I'll no' wait, but gie her my love" tae the nurse. She said, "What name will I give?" "Oh" he replied "I'm jist a skier", that really pleased her. We were at Dalnoid for a ski-ing weekend, when Ma died. One of the girls told me, I had tae walk away tae grieve. Oan the Wednesday I went up, wi' my pal Davie, tae say goodbye tae Ma, Glenshee's no' the same!
Ma
Dreich, dark rain clouds,
Lament ower the land,
They weep, for Alba's loss.
The valley o' peace,
Is bathed in their tears,
The pride o' oor flow'rs,
Will bloom, never mair.
But we will ay' mind,
The sparklin' eyes,
The kindness an' courage,
The cheeky wee smile.
For Alba now,
Is sairly bereaved,
Tae think o' the service,
The pleasure an' joy,
Dalnoid has extended,
Ower many a year.
But there will ay'be,
A place in oor he'rts,
Tae cherish her love,
Sae tender an' free.
Aye! Weel, will we mind,
The Flow'r o' Glenshee.
Dreich, dark rain clouds,
Lament ower the land,
They weep, for Alba's loss.
The valley o' peace,
Is bathed in their tears,
The pride o' oor flow'rs,
Will bloom, never mair.
But we will ay' mind,
The sparklin' eyes,
The kindness an' courage,
The cheeky wee smile.
For Alba now,
Is sairly bereaved,
Tae think o' the service,
The pleasure an' joy,
Dalnoid has extended,
Ower many a year.
But there will ay'be,
A place in oor he'rts,
Tae cherish her love,
Sae tender an' free.
Aye! Weel, will we mind,
The Flow'r o' Glenshee.
The last in the series is aboot Iain Fleming, Ma's husband. I used tae drop in tae see him efter he moved oot o' Dalnoid. "How are you daein', Iain?" "Ok I'm jist daein' awa' an' feedin' sheep", would be his reply. He's now away wi' Ma. I make a ritual o' sayin' "God bless you Iain an' Ma" whenever I cross the McThomas Bridge at Spittal o' Glenshee. It's the passin' o' another era, nae mair games o' Cardinal Puff, Ceilidhs at Dalrulzion or connin' students intae puttin' funnels doon their troosers an' tryin' tae catch coins frae aff their noses, (silly buggers - serves them right - while they are lookin' up I'm pourin' water doon the funnel.) Great days!
Iain
The gairdener, aince, had,
A seed in his mind,
An' planted it gently,
An' watched as it grew.
His skill an' devotion,
Attended it's growing,
Frae slender, young, seedling,
Tae strong, mature, bloom.
His he'rt filled wi' pride,
Tae gaze on it's blosom,
An' o'erfilled his warld,
Wi' beauty an' love.
An' as time flew by,
He nurtured it's strength,
Tae be it's support,
As it started tae fade.
An' like every flow'r,
It’s time, was but passing,
An' tears stain the ground,
Whaur aince, it had thrived.
But here's tae that man,
Wha cherished it's beauty.
The man in wha's he'rt,
Blooms The Flow'r o' Glenshee.
"Ma an' Iain God bless ye baith."
The gairdener, aince, had,
A seed in his mind,
An' planted it gently,
An' watched as it grew.
His skill an' devotion,
Attended it's growing,
Frae slender, young, seedling,
Tae strong, mature, bloom.
His he'rt filled wi' pride,
Tae gaze on it's blosom,
An' o'erfilled his warld,
Wi' beauty an' love.
An' as time flew by,
He nurtured it's strength,
Tae be it's support,
As it started tae fade.
An' like every flow'r,
It’s time, was but passing,
An' tears stain the ground,
Whaur aince, it had thrived.
But here's tae that man,
Wha cherished it's beauty.
The man in wha's he'rt,
Blooms The Flow'r o' Glenshee.
"Ma an' Iain God bless ye baith."
About the Author
Edinburgh-born Roger McKillop is a retired Sports Studies lecturer. He has been writing poetry in Scots for many years and has had his work published in The Scots Magazine. His pen name is Roger Ceann Maol Beag, which means Wee Roger with the Bald Head!