From prosaic to panoramic

First to Dingwall, to the money tree, for cash to pay the tradesman. Returning, we are driving more towards the sun. Crossing the Black Isle, we breast one hill top after another to see another long panorama before us. The cloudscapes constantly changing, dark layers, white layers, bolsters of haar, here one minute, gone the next. Then, at the top of the porridge hill, this. Across the Firth, over Inverness to the Monaliaths and, to the left, the Cairngorms.