green-dappled light through the fragrant pines, grass track underfoot, blue heaven above, walking in the clear fresh air sitting in the shade looking out over the azure loch, Meall Fuar-mhonaidh behind, bulwark, brooding foreign voices at the next table, tell-tale number plates in the car park; we stopped at the quiet place of stone and names to say hello, farewell, and the years fell away to a husband, his kind square hand, and a beautiful daynext poem