There are two seasons in Scotland: June and Winter.
Occasionally I have come across a last patch of snow on top of a mountain in late May or June. There's something very powerful about finding snow in summer.
There are moments, above all on June evenings, when the lakes that hold our moons are sucked into the earth, and nothing is left but wine and the touch of a hand.
Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.