The latest update from Caleb on the frozen North and the bitter winds that creep South now that winter is upon us. Having had the first killing frosts of the season (was waiting for them to clear up the ramlant Nasturtiums), I can only say how utterly beautiful this weekend has been – despite the shock to the system after the anomolously warm start to November.
I apologize for being slow to update the sea-ice posts. The sun has set up there until March, and I suppose I’m a very visual person, (whatever that means), and when there is nothing to see there is no way for my lying eyes to inform my lips to blow the whistle on people who depend on models and never use their eyes or even step outside. This time of year I tend to drift away from drifting sea-ice, which is sort of an avocation, and to move more in the direction of my vocation, which is basically to survive. Survival is no easy thing this far north, which is why many pan handlers and bums head south this time of year, and why Syrian refugees are in grave danger when they head north.
One reason I work so tirelessly and unstintingly to recreate myself as a cantankerous anachronism is…
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