The edge of the sword.

That’s the translation of the Gaelic name for the wee lochan here, but I’ve never been able to find out how it got this name. Anyway, it looked lovely in this morning’s sun light. Walking round another loch prior to this, it had been windy, much cooler, more seasonable at 3°, and the sun had not cleared the top of the hills. When it did it was very pleasant.
The squirrel spent much of the day on his feeder in the garden.