It was coming for a while now, this soaked boot, this wet pant leg; something to expect when wandering during a thaw. My right leg broke through an ice bridge that thinly covered a moraine creek. Aki watched me attempt the crossing and then used information gained to make it warm and dry to the other side. On this above freezing day it is an inconvenience. Thirty degrees colder and I would be stuffing dried glass between my pant leg and skin. If we had to camp out tonight, I’d be sleeping with a boot in my bag. But winter is still on retreat.

We are happy to have a thin dusting of snow to brighten a gray day. The show looks best on the young spruce died in a fire. In summer their black trunks stand like skeletons over a scattering of flowering lupine. Today, covered in fresh snow, the fire blacking works to their advantage.