...the tide was out. Along a curving swath of dune, shallow clear water washed over white sand exposing seaweed and shells and giving seabirds - oyster catchers, sandpipers - easy access to tasty, tiny morsels.
A pleasant scent - moist and earthy - signaled that peat was burning. A marker depicted an interior. Despite the homely scene - smiling occupants - I wasn't convinced that living in such circumstances was as lovely as it would have us believe.
Ripples of turquoise waves, edged with white froth, rolled onto a broad expanse of empty, white sand. Wisps of white clouds streaked a vivid blue sky. In the background, rolling hills lay in gray-green shadow. Long ago, it was this picture that first alerted me to the presence of the Outer Hebrides, islands of the north-west coast of Scotland.