The weather is evidently exhausted from the effort of yesterday's spectacular cloud display, the colours reverting to a uniform, dismal grey: grey sky, grey sea, grey rocks, and a grey....
....heron fishing along the low-tide mark, while high above the....
....skeins of pink-footed geese call as they pass over us, illogically heading north but presumably that's where their chosen forage-field is today. One wonders which amongst the hundred-plus geese decided on today's field.
By early afternoon a cold, sleety rain was falling, the garden birds had given up on the day, and the heather hillside around the duke on his plinth at the summit of Bheinn Bhraggie was turning grey - from the winter's first dusting of snow.
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