The lovely haphazard tumbling down lochside. The weather has surpassed itself. Icy cold brilliantly sunny mornings. At the edge of the loch seaweed encased in a thin almost transparent coating of ice. As the sun gains a hold the ice retreats with a slow drip dripping. Watching ice melt can perhaps be compared to watching paint dry! But it was magical and silent, even the drips were quiet. To my right a tree had lost the battle to hold onto the bank and slipped down towards the loch edge. It might have lost the battle to stay upright but it carried on sprouting the first buds and leaves of spring. It is a very special place and as is so often the beauty is right down at my feet.