Strong shadows and moods as the clouds darken and separate, creating a catalyst of disjointed sections across the sky. They whirl and jostle as the winds strengthen, pure density forecasting their destiny. The MacLeod's Tables stood their ground but became Maypole posts as the shapes tangled around them, hiding the tops like frothy laced linen.
The sunrise sent pale pink smatterings across the grey wisps of cloud high in the sky. Considering the snow showers that have been emptying themselves over the island since then, the skies have been remarkably dramatic in between them. The northerly wind tends to stir things up, ruffle the feathers of the sea gulls and generally make the sheep's wool look beautifully soft (not sure the sheep think that, I suspect they'd quite like a hotel of a warm hay-filled-barn-like nature). It also appears to have had that effect on the clouds today.
