Before the season moves too far on, I should continue with the account of the ascent of Ben Rinnes which my husband and daughter did between Christmas and New Year. It's not a grand mountain, and it doesn't require ropes or anything much other than enough puff and reasonable leg-power (tho like any Scottish hill mist can descend frighteningly quickly out of a blue sky, and there are crags which you could fall off, so it shouldn't be taken lightly). But it's the local big hill of my home village, and a reference point for weather predictions and the progress of the seasons. 'Snow on the Ben' is a sure sign that winter is coming. 'Snow still on the Ben' is just as sure a sign that we're having (another) cold spring.
Here it is then, all brown heather and white hoar frost on the north-facing side, on a gift of a day just before New Year.
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