The tiny loch deep in the mossy wood

Twice we heard a splash in the still water; whether a rising fish or a diving frog we couldn’t say. We’d walked through the wood and onward, specifically to find this little loch. Fortunately, though we’d had ample directions earlier, we met, twice, a kind friend who pointed out the correct path.

When we arrived at this ultimate tranquility, we sat on the little bench under the Western Red Cedars and contemplated the peaceful setting. I was minded of nothing so much as Robbie Burns’ poem/song ‘Ye Banks and Braes.’ Of course, we’re in classic Burns country, here in the soft and clement southwest of Scotland, where he spent most of his adult life. So it’s hardly surprising that this song should surface in our consciousness.

Tranquility is its own reward, though we felt the effort it had taken, throughout the evening and on into this morning. Still able, just, to experience these joys of movement that is not too constrained. And, perhaps, a sharing of the experience will be kindly for readers who are not so mobile.

We may not be able to climb up into the near hills, but we can be content with what we can accomplish. There’s a quiet joy in that, surely.

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