Spacious enclaves shuttered by the defiance of explicit patterns that favour darkness.
The hills are encrusted by whiteness.
They challenge the obstinacy of the winter gloom with an unsuccessful radiance of elaborate refractions.
The windows of opportunity are limited to solemn walks on the lower hills, the humbling escapades of wandering through death scenes of Nature.
The evening weather is for drinking in pubs.
We bask in the artificial warmth of beer and fireplaces.
We exist in the ideal comfort zone.
The Cairngorms are a culmination of all the places in the world we wish to be.