Moonlight Cairngorms, Mug by Ann Vastano

Night drapes itself over the Cairngorm plateau, but the moon refuses subdued tones, instead blazing turquoise through swirling ultramarine cloud. Its cold light spills across snowfields, turning cornices electric cyan and chiselling every ridge with icy precision. Below, a ribbon of water snakes past russet pasture, catching the lunar glow in quicksilver strokes before fading beneath a stand of ink‑black Caledonian pine. Nestled amongst the trees, a croft with an emerald tin roof and butter‑yellow windows pulses with life—proof that even under cosmic splendour, someone’s likely stirring porridge by the fire. The contrast of inky sky and flame‑coloured lower slopes feels almost surreal, yet if you’ve walked these hills under February moon you’ll recognise the strange warmth that lingers in peat and heather long after sundown. The scene hums with quiet power, reminding you that winters here are tough but never bleak when you can count on moonlight bright enough to read map contours by.