Saturday, 20 February 2016

Speyside Dawn

It's soundless but for my boots crunching snow. The trees are furred with frost, the dark extremities of birch white, looking like the ghosts of trees, like a photographic negative. The fog has closed in but the hint of sunrise I saw earlier, that hint of an extraordinary day about to begin, appears in a hole in the fog, a rosy mountain peak plastered in snow.

The forest I am wandering in smells of cold and pine. A heady and free scent. I feel so glad to be alive.

Ten minutes. If only it were all day. I get back in the car and drive on to my rendezvous, passing walkers preparing for a cracking day on the hill. I feel a pang of jealousy. They have all day to enjoy this!



But a lot can happen in ten minutes, if you know how.

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