Ryvoan Bothy, Winter, Mug by Ann Vastano

Snow has settled thick on Ryvoan, blurring familiar outlines into softly contoured shapes edged with lilac shadow. The bothy’s corrugated roof now resembles a slice of Viennetta, perfectly ridged and deliciously frosted, while its stone walls hunker against a wind that barrels down from unseen collies high in the surrounding hills. A pair of ewes nose through drifts near the gable, their fleeces merging with the snow save for tiny charcoal faces. Overhead, northern clouds swirl mauve and pewter, parted just enough to reveal a wash of greenish aurora that seems to lift the roof with its eerie light. Bare ground shows only where burn water trickles, painted in slivers of teal and ink that cut through the whites like veins of marble. Despite the chill, warmth radiates from a vivid sap‑green door—the universal sign of welcome to walkers caught out in sudden squalls. It’s the Highlands in full hush, a world muffled to the crunch of snow and the pop of a bothy stove as you cradle something hot and sweet.