I felt as Wordsworth may have felt , coming across a host of flowers tossing their heads to each other and to me – in a distant corner of Rannoch. I took a few home to show to my brothers and the dog, they weren’t excited – maybe you’ll see my point when you see the walk I had!

Up on the hill , as they modestly call this mountain, I walked. I was – like Wordsworth- alone as I ascended.

Lonely as I reached the heights

Wishing that I had as companions the two larks that we’d seen outside our window as we ate lunch on the links of St Andrews earlier in the week. Thanks to Derick for the sight of their ascension!

Descending to the sight of a chair loaded with twigs, the work of villagers of Kinloch Rannoch, expecting a dry day to light a fire.

It was not a dry day but there was power from the rain and snow which has been insistent since my arrival last week. My walk finished at the point where the might of Rannoch and the streams from higher lochs could be tapped to keep this part of Scotland powered.

There is a crisis of power from fossil fuels because of the folly in the Middle East. But I was comforted that the brightness of daffodils cannot be dimmed nor the power of the lochs and rivers be turned off by other people’s wars.