It was a very fine winter morning, breathlessly still and significantly below zero. Loch An Eilein had frozen across most of its surface save for the outflow of a small stream which dropped over a ledge and where one or two Scots pine branches had snagged with a glaze of ice forming across it. I waited almost two hours for the light to get high enough to backlight the twin pines and then used the snared snag as a pointer toward the trees.

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