In winter all the trees and fields are bare, and both covered by dewy, frosty cobwebs made by early, busy spiders. The webs are everywhere, it's magical, as if a huge spider came along in the night and made a patchwork quilt to keep the grass warm. Everything is frosty and the house looks bare and out of place in this stark wilderness that is my home. I don't seem to have mentioned my only other companion; he is called Dog. I have to admit that I wasn't in a particularly imaginative mood when I named him, and certainly not for naming puppies. So I called him Dog, he liked it and it stuck. I found him when he was a puppy in the middle of the woods; he was obviously the runt of the litter and was left behind. We go everywhere together; you could say that we were inseparable, he certainly thinks that. Dog and I go skating on the lake, now that it is completely iced over. It is much too cold to hunt and all the animals are hibernating, but I should have enough meat to see us through until the spring. The mountains behind the house seem bigger and more 'alive' than ever, casting long shadows over nearly everything; engulfing the whole landscape; house, trees, fields, all. It snows a lot now, and the house is sometimes blanketed in a layer of thick, white, creamy snow. The fields too, when they are not cobwebbed. The trees look out of place too, naked against the bleak and barren landscape. I am sure Dog doesn't favour it much in these desolate times either. I am just surviving and waiting for the lake to thaw, the trees to gather their leaves, the mountains to show their paths, the rabbits to rear their dozy heads. I am sure he can't wait until spring, and neither can I.
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