The cold came back, and the fog, reminding us it is still winter here - I didn't go out the door till later, when tasks called me I packed up my things; three heavy trips to the car; squared- up the bed, left all the dishes and away we were again, pointed north. We stopped in the blackness to eat and have tea, just short of the Pass. Glad I was to make it home - my small place spoke to me, I don't like to leave it long. It is everything now.next poem