We are on the exciting cusp of the changing season.

The hedgerows are buzzing with the animated chatter of birds, newly arrived from distant shores, meeting and mating, and preparing for their nesting season.

The days are getting longer and the morning’s earlier, as the deep blue skies of an Islay spring emerge, along with those gorgeous ‘pops of colour’, with daffodils and crocuses lining the edges of the farm tracks, and the roads beside the villages.

The seasons of the farming cycles continue, as a plough sinks deep into the earth, turning the soil, preparing the furrows, for when the seeds of the ‘whisky journey’ are ready to be sown.

In the ‘maternity wards’ at Persabus, heavily pregnant ewes can be seen basking in the glorious warmth that a glint of spring sunshine brings. They laze, happily chewing on the cud. Relaxing and posing in the fields, with no hint of their earlier escapades, when they disgraced themselves as they indulged in a spot of over-zealous ‘gardening’.

The old fishing crate on the back of the quad bike is laden with all the necessary paraphernalia of lambing – gloves, stomach tubes, keel, and baler twine. A trailer hitched on the back, ready to transport any ewes or lambs in need of some extra care, through the fields and back to the farm sheds.

It can be seen leaving the yard over-flowing with a growing lambing team of youngsters, eager to lend a hand. It is always an exhausting but lovely time in the farming calendar. The welcome of new life, the fragility, the power, and the wonder of nature.

When the children were small, they would be up before school at the crack of dawn. Layers of jumpers and waterproofs hurriedly pulled over pyjamas and tucked into tiny wellies, such was their haste to scramble into the back of the trailer, ready to accompany their dad on the lambing rounds.

They would return, rosy cheeked, and wide eyed, full of excited chatter about the ewe they helped, or the lamb they saved. Lambs’ milk would be mixed, bottles and teats sterilised, and pet lambs would be lovingly fed and cared for, by their tiny hands.

Sir Roger, Rudolph, Pepsi, and Sugar Lump, to name but a few, some lived on the farm to a ripe old age, for others it was much too short a stay.

The cycles of farm diversification projects come to fruition. The building blocks of picking and pointing, brick work and cementing, block after block, plastering and decorating, as old ruins grow into new buildings, and we sit on the edge of another cycle in the tourist season.

We're ready to welcome people arriving for the very first time on these shores and old friends journeying back from across the globe. For each of them, their island experiences will continue to develop and grow.

They are led on incredible and fantastic adventures that invigorate and charm the taste buds and senses, as the island casts her charm and unique character.

Days of exploring tasty journeys, they sup their way through distillery tours. They follow the story of the whisky from its source to the tip of the tongue.

They dine on platters of fine local produce, fresh lobster, clams, and crab, all harvested by the local fishermen. The fishing boats a hive of activity in the small village ports. The bright colours of heavy oilskins, as thick fluorescent gloves, heave creels and ropes, lift baskets and buckets of the freshest of produce.

The finest Scotch beef, venison, spring lamb, pheasant, and partridge, makes their way onto the appetising menus of local restaurants and hotels.

In the fields, the farmers continue their cycles of rearing and raising the beasts and livestock. Livestock that grazes on the Hebridean machair, on the nutrient rich seaweed, the varied herbs, and grasses, of the rolling hillsides.

Livestock and beasts reared and raised, gently, in the old traditions and ways of a farming community that has spanned the years of time, as farming cycles continue.

Over the coming weeks, fields will be ploughed and reseeded, nurtured and tended, allowing for crops of silage and hay as the year progresses, ready to feed the animals, when the grass supplies deplete, and winter takes her hold once again.

There’s the island’s hunting season, allowing for a plentiful supply of local game to inspire those ‘taste’ journeys, alongside home-grown vegetables and fruit as farm diversification vision and passion sees the growth of Kevin and Heather’s market garden on Nerabus Farm.

The sheer hard work and energy as plots are rotavated and seeded, poly tunnels expand and grow, and the freshest of produce is neatly packaged and delivered in boxes across the island throughout the seasons.

The island is poised, ready to go, as we teeter on the edges, prepared, for the full swing of a busy season. Sharing the essence of island life, as local characters step up to their roles, as distillery managers and stillmen, farmers and fishermen, shopkeepers, and hoteliers.

It is a time for journeys and adventures, capturing that Islay spirit. Days of exploring beautiful sandy beaches, climbing over dramatic rocky coastlines.

Dipping those toes into soothing, cool, crystal-clear seas. Days of foraging and exploring, harvesting the fruits of the sea, as cockles and mussels gathered on the shoreline cook over a fire of driftwood at the edge of the shore.

The magical infused sensory journey of hikes across heather clad hills, the peaty landscape of bog myrtle and wild bilberries, among the deer, the otters dancing and playing at the water’s edge.

There will be boat journeys and fishing trips. Rods being cast into rivers and lochs, for salmon and trout. Those sea adventures, as mackerel and sea trout beckon, dolphins and seals entertain, and on the north tip of Jura, the beauty of the Corryvreckan whirlpool awaits.

There will be cyclists and paddle boarders, windsurfers, and sailors.

There will also be that unique and special island charm and welcome, as on the farm the plough sinks into the deep earth, with the promise of the season ready to unfold.