Our dog walks funny on the shingle beach at Kippford
Heather and sea. Out of place rocks on Bengairn. Itís very wet underfoot
Suddenly surrounded by Painted Ladies amongst the thistles on the coast path to Sandyhills
Itís summer in the glasshouse at Threave. Outside it feels like February.
In a grassy hollow on the cliffs above Balcary. A smell of coconut from the nearby gorse. The wind whistles above
Lying behind piles of rocks near Cairnsmore of Fleet summit the only sound is of skylarks and I donít want to leave
Our socks got wet and sandy but we donít care. The warm sun at Mossyard feels like a holiday
Pollarded Tree Evening Moon