Beinn a' Bhuidhne

Like a lidless eye, the loch stared up into the sky. Fluffy clouds drifted slowly aloft, but the sun shone brightly. The black ribbon forked, one going south, the other west into the far distance. Both were roads into memory. The wind whispered through the rough grass and heather. Little heaps of peats were set away from the roadway as it threaded south. The modern addition of wind turbines fell away as altitude was slowly gained. Little huts started to appear, a little way off the beaten track. Some blown apart by the unrelenting and unforgiving wind. "Let's stop here". The car pulled into a lay-by and its engine was switched off. "This is where we went to cut peats". She looked around. The wind sighed through the heather. "We'd leave a jar of jam buried there, and the next year it would be dug out. Just scrape off the mould and it would be as good as new". An old, rusty kettle lay amongst the ruin of the shieling hut. Lochs lay glistening in the distance, where the river ran eastward towards inhabited lands. "Sometimes, we'd start the car and let it roll down the hill". She smiled. "Sometimes, we'd make it all the way into town". The sun was momentarily obscured by a passing cloud, and a little chill fell. But the light came back quickly. The running of the river was the only other background noise. The car door shut, its engine started and the vehicle moved on towards the top of Beinn a' Bhuidhne.