I love this time of day: the sunset glowing pink on the snow, light lingering in the sky while the backs of the condos across the courtyard are falling into shadow.

Yesterday comes back to me, when we walked in the overcast in the falling snow. “Look,” Sally said on the bridge, “paw prints all alone, without a person’s.” I looked down and saw them – small but spaced apart, suggesting a loping kind of gait, keeping to the edge of the bridge. They were so fresh they had not yet begun to fill up with snow.

We followed them, down off the span over the river, along the trail and then, into the field. It was harder to see the tracks there, broken and lost in tufts of grass, but we managed; saw where you investigated a jumble of dead wood, followed your meandering path this way and that…

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