See tiny frogs on the path, meet mushroom foragers, pause to stroke and talk to an old oak. Look down, roots that seem hand-painted. Sticks go click-clack. Find a friendly rock. Sit. This is food for future years.
The lapping waves of the Loch. The flashes of light on water between trees. Run your fingers over bouncy, luminous moss.
Keep going. The han…
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