On a chilly March day during our holiday in Scotland, Jim and I took a drive toward Blacklunans and Glenisla down some very narrow and twisting roads that lead us through the mountains. Around each bend and over each mountain we saw ever more beautiful vistas — forests, lochans and pocket glens. I was spoiled for choice, and I kept thinking around the next bend I will stop and paint, only to want to keep pressing on to see what was next. In some places the road was too narrow and hills too step to stop and set up the easel. I finally settled into a deer track on the top of Cat Law, a mountain in Angus.

The sun had been going in and out of the clouds and it had been raining on and off all morning. Up on Cat Law it was cloudy, windy and rainy, but in the valley below and on the far mountains it was sunny and green. In this painting I was trying to capture that spot of brightness in the distance. Later when I looked at a map I discovered that those mountains were about 30 miles away from where I was standing. Furthermore, those bumps on the crests of the mountains are prehistoric monuments.

I was so cold after an hour of painting from standing in wet grass and mud and the constant wet wind blowing against me. I had a bit of a melt down towards the end, having lost the feeling in my hands and feet. I could not wipe the paint off my brushes or hold the brushes steady in my stiff fingers, and I was having a hard time even standing at the easel. I was getting very frustrated because whenever one puts paint on the brush and makes a mark on the painting surface a little of the other colors near or under that stroke pick up and leave paint on the brush. In order to keep the color clean, it is important to wipe the paint off the brush after every three or four brush strokes, otherwise the color gets muddy. To clean the brush one needs to carefully pinch the bristles of the brush gently between a folded rag and pull the paint out of the brush. Pinching or pulling too hard will damage the brush. My solution — since I could not feel my fingers — was to get paint on a brush, make a few marks and throw it on the ground. Then I'd grab another brush and make a few marks and repeat until I was out of brushes. By the time I was done I was shivering and in tears from cold and frustration.

Jim got me calmed down and back in the car while he retrieved the brushes I had thrown. We drove back to our cottage on a different road and we passed even more incredible views and wee Forter Castle. I would have loved to stop and paint but I did not want to do anymore damage to my fingers and toes, and frankly, I was in no shape to continue at that point. Later, in the comfort of the cottage and after some whiskey-laced tea, I was able to touch up the painting to my satisfaction