The Queen of the Snows

Feral Words

White Horse, Glen Etive

Scotland gets a wee bit magical this time of year, much of the time. When the snow falls on the mountains and the frost falls on the earth, everything seems wrapped up in a slumber, a stillness that’s almost restful.

At other times, it’s less pleasant. When the storms and the rain and the sleet fly in, when the wind’s howling through the air and every time you step outside the door it feels like the entire country is actively trying to kill you, then it’s not quite as nice. But even then, even at the worst, there’s always a stillness at the heart of the storm. It’s the one you find when you close the door, shut out the wail of the wind and sit down in the wamth, by the flicker of the firelight. There’s a wonderful peace in that, too.

In the old days, winter was a…

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