Climbing a ladder to hang Tibetan prayer flags under the eaves is out of the question at the moment (and probably forever), and I have begun...

Beau and I paused in the lee of a big old rock (a glacier dropstone) in the woods yesterday in an effort to get out of the bitter north wind...

(For Lucy, who called them "ghost houses.") Someone was always leaving and never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wiv...

The north wind brushes snow away from ice on the river, and clouds of displaced snowflakes swirl through the air like confetti.  Light ...