Stillwater Diary, January 22, 2019

We’re back home, and happy to be here. It’s pretty cold, although compared to New England thirty degrees is downright balmy.


The path to the Still Water, for which the place is named.
A convenient meditation bench by the Still Water. The previous owners left this for us, along with many other surprises out in the woods.

The dogs, as always, had a wonderful time. Chloe played fetch with her beat-up, twisted old Frisbee the whole way. Here she is waiting for me to throw it:

Throw it! Throw it! What are you waiting for?

Biskit stayed close, as you’ll see. The dog who stays closest gets to pose for the most pictures—and also gets the most treats. Guess which one Biskit cares about?

Here she comes! It’s time for Biskit to have a biscuit!

As always, the Ogre supervises the woods with his friendly expression. He’s a good ogre, we’ve decided, and protects us. He must be doing a good job, because I haven’t managed to hurt myself on the rocks yet!

The Ogre abides.

Jesse was off on his own by this point. I’m a little worried he’s found every mountain lion and coyote kill in the woods, and is helping himself to the leavings. He was sick once from a nasty deer leg, and I’m worried he’ll do it again. Oh, the pleasures of country living!

Biskit abides, too.

It’s getting late in the day, as you can see by the shadows. We try to leave the place to the real animals between dusk and dawn, which is when predators like to do their hunting. I sleep well knowing they’re out there under the moon, going about their secret business in the dark.

Time to go home.