
After surveying their backyard kingdom first thing this morning—all the way down Aragorn's path to the river in search of deer and rabbits, Samwise and Emily returned to the warmth, dusted in fine, sugary snow. They wriggled happily when I towel them off. Then, the tea kettle began to whistle, and it was my turn to dance. Is there a finer sound on winter mornings?
It's single digits in Jackson again to begin the day, and soon, we'll be shuffling and sniffing our way around the pond in search of the otter. The miles do not come easy this December, but they astound with beauty. Without any wind, the evergreens are still coated like we are starring in a Christmas show.
Before hopping in Clarence for the short drive to the pond, I'm at the sink cutting up squash and sweet potato, mushrooms, carrots, a red onion, a fennel bulb, and celery. The…
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