The sheeps are safely in the croft now after their brief stay on the cliff edge. Black Hebrideans and the woollie-back white ones too. All friendlied up together - though they always seem to keep a distance from each other.
See, that's Dad Crofter driving the quad on the beach below here trying to see where the sheeps had got to. Luckily not right down on the beach - although it wouldn't be the first time if they had fallen there.
And there's some woolie-backs looking at the view near the stop of the somewhat unstable cliff. Probably looking to see if the MV Isle of Lewis has sailed.
The sheeps have this to play in when they are put down on the bit of common grazing. I never tire of looking and photographing it. Wonderful landscape!
Oooh, don't look down. That's the little steep road down to the beach.
I might add here I took the opportunity to post a few more snaps - all duly off proper film, developed and all by me to celebrate hearing that I have fans who read this stuff. Especially those at Earthlines - a lovely magazine.
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.