Island Of Skye

Often we saw the dazzling brightness of blown spray, or of gulls following a boat, and a rosy light on the snow of the highest hills, On days of broken cloud there would be travelling gleams on the slopes, moving pools of light, like those cast by the head-lamps of a car. And one bright day in February, when I was rowing close under a little cliff, I saw the quivering play of ripples reflected on the smooth face of the rock. Island of Skye by Margaret Leigh. Tour Skye.