Looking for the tiniest signs of Spring by my feet I found the sunny yellow Coltsfoot on shingle under the Garry Bridge this weekend – its flower pops up out of nowhere, with leaves coming later . . . and when pressed its tincture is said to help drive away coughs, a bit like buttercup syrup perhaps? Stumbling upon a clutch of pheasant eggs, fragile blue and cold, left me wondering. The beech saplings cling onto their papery orange leaves defiant to their parent’s scars – this is the heart of Big Tree Country where the frothy beer of the Tummel pours into its ‘Linn’ (Linnhe is Gaelic for deep pool) before joining with the River Garry, and flowing into Loch Faskally. Emerging signs have left me rejuvenated and ready for new beginnings.

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