This rather drab picture only matters for what you, the reader, cannot experience from it: the silence. The only sounds against this silence, as we stood for some time on the old coast road looking out across the Dornoch Firth, were....
....the slow suck of the waves of low tide amidst the seaweed and stones and....
....behind us, the birdsong in Dunrobin Woods - robin, wren, blackbird, song thrush, chaffinch, dunnock and many more - but not....
....this silent little wanderer from treetrunk to treetrunk, a tree creeper.
The woods are increasingly decorated with wildflowers. The bluebells are about to explode across the open ground under the high deciduous trees, taking over from the fading primroses but joined by violets, wood anemone, campion and this one, cuckooflower. One day I hope to find my favourite wildflower, a wild orchid.
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