In November, M wrote to say it was cold in the North. What she wrote specifically is, “Just wanted to let you know that it’s beginning to get freezing cold outside up here! We also have a snow record now. It’s been 100 years since it was so much snow in November.”
Perhaps light is the first thing that appears when I think of this place, light, the way it textures the world here. True, I see places where I have camped and fished and walked and drank coffee. I see cairns and logbooks. I see the ocean, piles of snow, sea eagles, otters and hillsides re-born into shades of lavender and crimson. I see faces. I see all of these places and things, and I see them permeated by a peculiar light.