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There's a sporting and distinctly festive air about
Aberlour in winter.
Hunters are out and about in pursuit of red deer
and wild duck. Hill climbers brave the cutting edge of the wind
to plant their feet on the icy summit of Ben Rinnes. And fishermen
tickle rainbow trout while dreaming of salmon from the Spey.
When snow falls the landscape is transformed into
a winter wonderland. Snow carpets the valley floor and cloaks
the trees in ermine. The peaty undercoat of the hills and moors
is painted brilliant white. The bustling streams that tumble down
the slopes of "The Ben" become frozen like ribbons of
crystal.
Christmas at Aberlour is often a white one, the
sweet-smelling smoke from log fires parting the snow on the rooftops,
the muffled sound of carol-singers only just disturbing the silent
night. Then it's Hogmanay and, less than a month later, Burns'
Night. Winter in Aberlour is certainly something to celebrate
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