The mild weather has kept the wolves away from homes. This year they are not looking for the carcasses of dogs on our land. The hot weather has also benefited those who were waiting for the buds of spring and who have emerged earlier than expected.
With my people, we wandered one last time on our roads of snow. By dint of passing on our trails, the sleds are packed powder, transformed it into an ice remains when everything disappeared. As bridges that allow us to cross streams and bogs when everything has thawed.
paths fragile and ephemeral survey need snowshoes or they break. A whole season of work and travel that can sell out in the sun and will soon find its spot in slush pond and mosquitos.
Nostalgia, precisely, to be on our territory without dogs. Of course, they will remain at the kennel, of course there will be release to the river, drives a quad. But it is the end of homelessness.
It came time to close the camps. To attach the snowshoes nail in the living room wall. Storing mittens, jackets and snow boots in the attic.
Then see the lake take the trail Pike sled in its waters dark, imagining that the trail of ridges may be devoured by vegetation of summer, that time of the mud and flies came, I glue it all a little bumblebee. A bumblebee
ephemeral, however. Under the ice of the debacle of the already fast Ousiemisca appear. The wait will not last, soon it will time out canoes in the summer.
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