Here By the Lake

There is north wind here and clear blue light, high granite rocks almost touching the sky and whiskery old trees, a deep gorge through which the high river runs out into the lake.

From the top of the cliffs, so often written about here, the view is wonderful, and on clear days, one can almost see forever.

Now there is only wind and snow and light, Spencer looking thoughtful, me wrapped up in my old parka and clutching a camera. It is cold, very cold.