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| The Thinking Place Sleeps |
Dearest Readers,
Winter weather, snow and ice have
brought the Thinking Place Project to a halt for the time being. My future place for abiding slumbers on the hill
in my front field like a thatched and frosted moon pie that has surrendered to the cold, dim December days.
Up close, the unfinished sides and roof
seem to have collapsed into the mounting white landscape. There’s a silent
prickly beauty to it, but I cannot proceed.
My stores of sticks are buried in the
snow, and I cannot easily forage for downed branches, or cut new ones in the deep snowy fields
and forest.
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| My Stick pile #1-Mostly buried in snow |
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| Stick pile #2-Mostly buried in snow |
Etta is light enough that she walks on top of the refrozen, crusty snow. This
is a boon to her freedom and ability to run free, but hard-walking for me as my legs plunge down through the fragile top layer.
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| Etta listens to the world near the Thinking Place |
Here she is inside The Thinking Place, sniffing around while I photograph the empty space from the partially open
roof.
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| Etta inside the unfinished space |
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| Sleep tight, little hut. |
