I was working on an invoice last night when Dusan came in. Too suddenly it was time to be cooking dinner, but I found myself sent instead out for a quick solo ski with Bebe. This Jack Russell is sixteen years old but heads out cheerfully in sub-zero weather, making tracks in the snow that intersect with the ski lines once in a while. Mice tracks that come to the surface of the snow, then go under again, the clacket of the bald eagle cry as he takes off and flies south. Two deer through the aspens, improbably tall white tails flipping. And another bald eagle. And another. And another.
Home toward the glow.