Idiosyncracy

We headed towards Inverness for "stuff". The road was blocked by a tree fallen in earlier gales. So we went the pretty way, a hell of a long way round, retracing most of our steps to start with.

There's a special thing on the Black Isle, where farms and other businesses have wrought iron signs at their entrances. These are often very elaborate. A sheep farmer will have a wrought iron sheep in profile. A dairy farmer might have a cow. There's a smithy with an anvil and a hammer.  Here's one we found along the pretty way. And your guess is as good as mine.

And look, the moon's out.