The time between times when everything becomes still.
We decided to take a trip to somewhere new and unfamiliar to jump start my failing motivation, and in the end went for Argyll, alongside Loch Long to the bothy there, Mark’s Cottage. It was wet, cold and beautiful. We got lost. A lot.
Trailing through hours of forestry commission paths, we came across these remains sinking into the ground more or less exactly as they must’ve landed leaving the trail on a sharp and steep bend some time ago. My artist’s foraging head woke up, although unfortunately my backpack didn’t allow for substantial gathering.
This was as much of the wreak as I could carry. Another time perhaps. It sit’s strangely well with my current slight car obsession (more to follow on that later). We also noticed the geology a lot. Walking for long periods makes you notice the unusually usual things.
This particular rock (slate-like?) glittered in the wet. And it was wet more than it was not wet. There was a lot of quartz kicking about too. I don’t normally collect rocks, but this trip did seem to prompt it. This year will involve more trips, more collecting.