IT WAS BEAUTIFUL in the Country today. I felt it regularly as I ran along the narrow lanes between those strong winds, cloud, sleet and snow; in fair weather places, where Wren and Robing shuttle song, below purple hills , maroon in sunlight, deep blue in shadow.
The sun today, freed from the troubles of dark cloud, arose illuminating a pale blue sky in glorious light. I saw this same blue reflecting vividly in sparkling burns which wynd down to the River Almond, dividing fields in unusual ways.
Near the limit of my run, in the grounds of a red house, in a tiny hamlet, children shrieked and laughed. Dressed in pink and blue, they skipped around an adult and played with a tyre swing hanging from a tall pine tree.
Frequently as I ran, my eye was caught by stubborn solitary leaves, although scrunched and misshapen, they shone russet bright in bare empty trees.
Elsewhere, amid the beginnings of new grass, young snow drops hung their white heads announcing the seasons change. Yes, Spring had arrived. I felt it in the rarefied air. I saw it in the light. I heard it in the rancid caulk of Crows and seem to hear it repeated in the dull ring of a distant bell chiming.
As I ran, I caught its scent. I felt a thrill of those fresh green shoots and dark red buds touch me with a bright new hope.
Early Spring in the Sma’ Glen.