Mist and low tide
The beach at the Ardyne this afternoon - or early evening; we were late getting out - was bigger than we usually see it, almost disappearing into the mist that lay over the hills behind us and the dark looming of Bute. Here, the air was at least still - further along the road we'd met a blast coming down the glen where there was an east-facing gap, and it was decidedly chilly. The few lambs we could see in the field there looked as if they thought they'd arrived in the wrong season, and a secluded corner by the trees we saw a ewe apparently in labour - I've never actually witnessed a lamb being born, but this big lady was alternately lying on her side heaving gently or clambering clumsily to her feet again to look round. And no, we didn't stand staring - we passed her twice, with five or so minutes intervening, as we decided it was time to go home.
Warmer weather is promised, but I'm inclined to believe the warnings of dampness prevailing "in the north west". If English forecasters say that, you can be sure it'll prevail as far south as Cowal ...
I'd love to be proved wrong!