Monday. Brown-furred wolf runs south to north in front of my car. His legs pump, his haunches strain. Masterful, he sprints, his legs sure, not slipping and skidding like those long skinny-legged deer who sometimes fall and splay all four legs as they attempt to gain traction on ice. Solid, purposeful, the wolf crosses snow-covered asphalt, his eyes staring straight ahead, almost oblivious to the barreling car. He darts into the woods, immediately in a grove of evergreens, concealed in plain sight.
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Who is Lake Superior Spirit anyway (and does she have other blogs?)
Oh how the months speed by…
The latest from Our Little House in the Big Woods
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- pain, adjustment, stream of consciousness, coffee…
- The myth of 1,000 blog followers
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- Storms never last do they baby?
- When a stranger returns your purse
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- 301,245 hits
Read, read, read…months and months of photos and words…