Now here is a place to stop and unwind under the April-blue sky.  The daffodils sway like buttery flags in the breeze that skims over the snow-capped mountains.  Beneath the daffodils, tiny celandine tell their own story, reflecting their brightness from their small, yellow discs.  Meanwhile the rabbits squeak playfully in the adjacent fields.  I have never heard rabbits squeal with glee before, but they do.

I grab my belongings and make my way down a narrow lane, over a rocky path to Torrin bay.  It is early morning and all is still and quiet bar the squabbling oyster-catchers and the occasional gawky calls of four greylag geese.

Puddles of sea water left by the shrinking tide lay like mirrors on the flat sand, reflecting a shimmering image of white mountain tops, cliffs and sky; a whole world within this watery puddle. My eyes fall on the receding shoreline that is lined with a row of ring plovers, pairs of redshank and a single greenshank foraging in the sodden sand for their breakfast.

It is a truly tranquil scene; just nature getting on with its own business, in its slow, gentle rhythms. I remind my quickening mind planning the day’s activities that these are quiet moments to store amidst the drama and endeavours of a trip to Skye; that stopping and sitting provide time for reflection, time for wonder.  I am seeing this remarkable place at its best; no need to rush away.  I stay awhile soaking in its magnificent charms, recharging my batteries and feeling blessed.