The clouds were down on the ridgelines, while the wind had picked up and was blowing flurries of mist and fog around the trees and fencelines. There was no rain or even drizzle, just the prickly dampness that gradually insinuates itself through your clothes.
And, of course, it was cold. Not sub-zero, but enough that you start thinking you're in a refrigerator as the chill gradually sneaks up you.
In short, it was dreich.
But am I downcast? No! It's primal weather that brings out my ancestry - I can picture a group of bearded raiders with sword and buckler creeping about in the murk, just enough light to see by and not enough to be seen; eddying winds to confuse the dogs; and plenty of opportunities to grab what you want before disappearing into the murk again. Reivers or Highlanders - who cares? I come from both...
Lovely!
