Inside the Muffle

 The Kilpatrick Hills can usually be seen from here in the distance...

To be sure, the variety of weather available to the average west-coast denizen of Scotland is marvellous. I have lived in countries where there are only two distinctions in their weather: hot and cold. These are not really places to live and breathe, but to pass through, and be glad that you had. Yet, modernity has tempered our weather with monstrous things like air conditioners and radiators, and so what was meant to be passed through, at a brisk pace, is now settled and built upon.

At any rate, having lived (settled for a limited period) in some of these places, I can recognize without too much difficulty the beauty of the rain, the cleansing freshness of an icy breeze, the magic of a spontaneous shower, in short, the diversity of weather (a sort of radical bio-diversity that engenders all other diversities) that Scotland is. 

I can recall not that long ago being put off by the rain or a dull gloomy sky. Now, however, having shook off my prejudices, I am more open to the grey than to a cloudless sky. There's something special about being out on a dull gloomy almost dark January day. For a start, there's no-one about (the wind and the rain keep the fools away), except the birds. Then there is the atmosphere, of being almost inside a cloud, like today, when the clouds were so low as to envelop anyone venturing up a hill. One becomes bio-enveloped: sealed inside a larger entity which effectively enabled your birth. Now, it's the grey and not the light that enlightens...

The misty ridge of Boglairoch...

Nebulous, these hills become magical when the mist descends upon them. Death walks alongside you. Only then can you announce your complete aliveness.

Greenside Reservoir.... partially frozen over. If I ever decide to make that horror film, at least I know where that opening shot is coming from.