Driving up the winding path to Glengary Cottages felt like stepping into a forgotten chapter of my own life. I\it was woven into the raw beauty of the surroundings, promising a stay where every moment felt earned, not bought.
Inside my cottage, the simplicity struck me first. Hand-hewn beams arched overhead, supporting a vaulted ceiling that made the space feel both intimate and expansive. A plush wool rug warmed the flagstone floor, and the king-sized bed was dressed in linen so soft it seemed to cradle you. But what truly defined it were the oversized windows—no curtains needed, just panoramic views of heather-covered hills and a loch shimmering under the morning sun. I spent hours curled up by the wood-burning stove, reading old novels I\it was an invitation to slow down, to rediscover the rhythm of my own breath without the distractions of screens or schedules. The owners, a local couple who\they were lessons in presence, teaching me how disconnected I\they\sometimes, we just need a sanctuary that helps us remember who we are.
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