The sun was shining between the heavy showers of hail. The kind Crofter was down in the Glen to pick up his wee coows who'd been holidaying down there for a while. We tootled down the muddy track a bit and the Crofter hollered. Almost immediately, well, eventually anyway, Hyacinth and her pals came up to see who was there for them, grins appearing on their little faces as they realised it was back to the croft time. Soon the coows were standing in the hastily erected pen on the road turning bit awaiting loading into the trailer.
On the Isle of Lewis off the west coast of mainland Scotland lies a croft inhabited by an English off-comer. His Mum and Dad live nearby and help him run the croft. This is a photographic record of their lives as it unfolds.