A brisk wind is chasing rain across the sky in quick, sharp intervals, strobe lights of sunshine cutting through. Just enough for a good run under a blue sky, between the raindrops.
I had planned to write about spring barley and the malting process that leads to single malt whisky, but before I could even get started, I fell down a rabbit hole of farming information regarding the glut of malting barley being stored from last year’s crop, how storage capacities of Scottish maltsters have been fully reached and what that means for existing barley stocks in terms of germination and export.
Fascinating stuff, the long path that leads up to the malting process itself. At least, to an amateur agricultural nerd and single malt enthusiast.
So, instead, I’ll head into a spot of sun, and leave with the promise of more malting stories to come at a later date, when the running trail isn’t beckoning more than the path of barley.
Next weekend, though, the plan is to introduce a new cocktail of my own invention, the Scaly Anteater, in honor of World Pangolin Day on 15 February.
For now though, a song of neither the whisky trail, nor my running trail here in France, but a trail song of a slightly different nature.