A slow morning in a Scottish forest

Simple winter rituals

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Subscribe for free to enjoy occasional posts from me. Or, better yet, join our slow community of kindred spirits to unlock ALL my content, including exclusive writing, videos and resources, to help you live the life you REALLY crave. We’d love you to join us for a cuppa…

Its been a while since I used my pacmat. It used to be a staple in my rucksack yet overtime it has become forgotten. Replaced with the more practical waterproof trousers or, when in a pinch, gloves, that I always have with me.

There is a romance about finding the perfect spot for my mat. I carefully lay it out on the pine needle covered floor, angling it so I’m facing the river. I unlace my boots so that I’m better able to sit in my preferred cross-legged position in the centre of the mat. Wriggling my toes in my cosy Nordic style socks that were a Christmas gift from a friend.

Before anything else can happen, Skye must have her treat. She is accustomed to this ritual and intently observes me as I rummage in my rucksack. Ears pricking at the familiar rustle. I shift the mat away so as not to be submerged in her eager drool and place the treat on the floor.

After this, she is able to settle down for a while and seems to have brought a stick just for this purpose. It is a good stick, I will admit. A satisfying one to gnaw on whilst I take my time unpacking the rest of my supplies.

First, I unscrew the squeaky lid of my Hydroflask and carefully place it on the ground next to me. I’ve learnt the hard way that it is better to leave the tea to cool first. I watch the steam gently curl and melt into the sharp winter air.

Then I take out my snacks, in this case a packet of mixed fruit oatcakes. Followed by my notebooks (yes, plural) and my sharpened pencil.

There is a sense of ritual to this routine. A commitment to taking time out just for me. Something that I am keen to prioritise more than ever this year.

It’s still cold today, which is to be expected in mid-January. It felt almost earlier, as its the first morning in a while that the temperature was above freezing. Only just above, with 1 degrees Celsius still being quite nippy.

My hands start to chill as I write, so I take regular breaks to warm them by placing them under my legs. I can feel the solid earth beneath me, with the odd indent from bumpy twigs and fallen pinecones. I relish the warming sensation of sipping my tea, which always seems to taste better outside.

I enjoy watching the river tumble over the smooth rocks. Rivers always seem clearer in the winter. They have a purity that is amiss in the warmer months.

I’m pleased that it is an overcast day, but not threateningly so. The clouds are a soft grey, with tendrils of faded blue. We’ve been blessed with a dry spell for the past week, that I’m determined to make the most of until the snow showers start arriving tomorrow.

This weather gives a depth to nature’s palette. You can almost feel the warmth of the burnt orange bracken. There is a richness to the various shades of green in this landscape. Cowberry, blaeberry and pine needles glisten with vibrance.

I’ve visited this spot many a time all through the seasons. I have fond memories of lying back on my mat in the warmer months. Watching the clouds float by. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my face and hands. There is something so innocent about these moments. A sense of complete abandonment to Mother nature. A feeling of home.

Today, it’s too cold to stay for long. After I fill a page or so with my observations, I pack up my rucksack and put on my boots, stamping my feet a few times to get them warm.

I allow one more fond glace at our picnic spot before we head off back into the wilderness that is my Scottish home.