Springtime at Loch Eilein, Mug by Ann Vastano

Loch an Eilein shakes off winter with quiet confidence here, its surface turning a delicate celadon that mirrors banks freckled with the first lime of larch. On the far shore, conifers advance like marching bands—deep bottle green in the shade, almost emerald where the sun breaks through gauzy cloud. Hovering above, benched ranges step back in gentle gradients of sea‑glass, teal and powdered indigo, their peaks still tipped with the season’s last frosting. The artist smudges sky into loch so seamlessly it becomes hard to tell which is reflection and which is air, save for a curved ribbon of pale water that slices horizontally, lending the whole composition a calming symmetry. In the foreground, damp peat yields mauve heather buds and slick bronze reeds, each rendered in loose, confident strokes that smell of mud and moss. There’s a hush—broken only by imagined crested grebes chattering and the faint clop of hikers’ poles on a nearby boardwalk—inviting you to sip, breathe and let new growth work its quiet magic.