Back in 2012, content in its own hum our car moved on. The road ran straight and fast among the wild greens in the land of Scots far up north. The stretch of grass was endless punctuated only at random intervals by thick bushes of trees. It was May, almost summertime in Scotland; the air was warm and it was a day of rare sunshine.
I have had thoughts of Scotland to be that distant far-off place while although charming, would give off a medieval sort of eeriness. And you’d think that the countryside would be dreary with rock fences, drenched in rain, grey clouds and gloomy weather but no, I was awed into submission; my senses trying to take in every little detail of the raw beauty surrounding us. The road went up small hills where the slopes are thickly painted with yellow flowers and then, downhill again as the plethora changes into thick green mosses and the scenery giving way to hundreds of large white windmills on the horizon twirling away lazily as we inched closer and closer.
I was truly glad we opted for the road trip rather than taking the train/coach up to Edinburgh; heaven forbid my being bereft of this sight! *chuckles*
