I haven't written here as much as I want to and I really mean as much as I should because this is my thinking grounds my broad log and friendly tree in the winter, I clear my throat grandly here and sometimes all that comes after are whispers again but that's ok. The photos were last Saturday, the Mississippi was curded white and frozen behind the dam but as far South as could be seen was cold clear blue and I took the little ones with me and the wind bit through us until our hands burned with cold but we saw them, great swooping majesties come to the water to live. They were watching and diving cleanly brushing the surface and we stayed with them until dark and as soon as my face turned the other way I missed it all and tomorrow I will go again. I would go to the River every day if I could. I would probably not leave either, watching from the floating dock the barge moving vaguely through, the last eagle skimming the moon from the water.
It is so cold now I nearly skate on what I spill watering the horses in the mornings. Snowflakes float around constantly never really landing. I don't go walking.
e-mails and such things that are owed will materialize soon, ish. Most of my time is somehow taken up with thinking.