Lambing, planting, mending and the long rhythm of a working estate, twelve months at Craigengillan in one read.
A working estate never quite stops. Spring means lambing in the in-bye fields and the first riders of the season clattering out of the yard. Summer is hay, visitors and long light; the hill stays bright until eleven.
Autumn brings the woodland work, thinning, planting, mending paths after the first storms, and the parkland turns every shade the brochure promised. Winter is quieter and more honest: feeding rounds, frozen troughs, and the kind of starlit silence that first drew the family to restore this place.
Guests often say they envy the rhythm. Our advice: stay long enough to borrow it.
