Aki lays next to the kitchen kick heater with that far away look that dogs affect when in bliss. Up here on the second floor invidious tendrils of cold air snake around my ankles and I need a significant amount of wool and fleece to hold out until this is  done.

Sadly there’s only weather to write about, cold as it is. Every morning as high winds drive down the windchill I pull on my “February in Bethel” clothes (Beaver Hat/Muffler/Snow Pants/Heavy Coat) and lean into the wind scouring down 7th Street. Aki dives under the covers and dreams of the South of France.

The dog misses the brutally beautiful light that only shows on cold winter days. It’s just for me and Raven who skulks for handouts at the bottom of the Seward Street Steps.  I call his name and the bird stirs into flight. gifting me with the ripping sound of a raven in flight.