I am proud to be taking part in a group of artists in residence in Inverewe Gardens over this spring and summer.

In spring 2019, I'll have two new books out: The Amber Seeker (a novel) and Why the Sky is Far Away (poetry).

A review of the spell-binding exhibition resulting from the collaboration between sculptor Helen Denerley and poet Michael Longley.

I have spent the last couple of weeks sailing south to Rathlin Island.

Is the walrus coming to my reading from The Walrus Mutterer in Ullapool next week?

It's spring at the harbour, suddenly everyone is at their boats, including us.

It is officially spring on Braighlinne, with the first primroses open.

The Walrus Mutterer was launched on a glorious day of sunshine.

Acknowledgements to everyone who helped me create The Walrus Mutterer

Winter isn't over yet, and it can be spectacular.

Ice is magic, ephemeral, spellbinding.

Down by the shore, there is a fish in a hole in a tree. Who put it there?

It's still hibernation season, so here's a poem for Imbolc.

Most of our trees know a thing or two about winter, and go dormant. Lessons to learn...

Ferns, ferns, ferns - and a kauri tree.

A summary of the results of my recent survey.

Thoughts on climate change, the tree charter and the re-launch and e-launch of my pamphlet A-B-Tree.

I'm still writing the dig diary for the Clachtoll broch... Check it out!

A new podcast of a long poem, Alphabet, has just gone up online.

I'm AWOL, blogging on other sites for a while...

Suilven has been burning for much of this week.

I've signed a contract with Saraband for Stone Stories.

Why we need writing that ignores the twenty-first century, that avoids the problems and issues of societ, and that immerses in non-human nature.

When bears scratch trees, what looks like damage turns out to be a source of healing.

Rewilding proponents need to think more about bears.

During February I wrote a play each day.

Some of my favourite writing about the Iron Age.

The sea feeds me - I gather seaweed to appease my hunger to get back out on the water under sail.

I get a good feeling from the Scottish poetry community.

A year on from Mum's death, dead wood in the forest offers comfort.

When Pytheas travelled around Britain in the Iron Age, he probably hitched along on trading vessels, which would have been carrying slaves as well as metals, jewelry and other valuable commodities.

Some ponderings on how rape might have been viewed in the Iron Age.

A weekend at the Faclan festival, on the boat.

At last the fieldfares have arrived - a big welcome to the migrants.

My new pamphlet of tree poems, A-B-Tree, was the focus of a poetry session in the woods in Lochinver yesterday

We need a world without throwaway cups. Today the Environmental Paper Network launched a 'cupifesto' calling for all cups to be reusable.

The mysteries of book economics have me baffled.

When it comes to getting poetry read, appreciated and published, the only approach is to act like a spider – try, try and try again.

Assynt Foundation is creating new crofts. Does is matter that it may not be possible to build houses on them?

At the Nairn Book and Arts festival, I was Bard in the Bookshop, and read poems inspired, dedicated or in tribute to other poets. Here I reflect on how we deal with our poetic influences.

After sailing to Orkney and back, I reflect that Pytheas must have been amazed by the tides.

I'm on the board of Assynt Foundation again

My historical trilogy has been submitted to my publisher.

It must be spring, the boat is afloat.

My new historical novel, The Stone Stories, nears completion.