A hard cold night. Awakened by the blood curdling cry of a fisher-cat hunting in the dark. In the morning coyote tracks in the snowy woods. The pond too quiet, fully seized up with ice, the geese calling to me from their post by the last sliver of open water before departing too. Being snowbound, I have been reading and watching films (& BBC television series). I am in love with the book I am reading called Wild Ones after having finally put aside others, more well-publicized, that I thought I should read. I loved Frances Ha and will have to download that forgotten song by David Bowie. Still quite intent on Judge John Roberts. Some recommendations for frigid days, for hiding in plain sight like my statuary frog.
rileyafield 
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