06 December

06 December

Dear Gabriel,

Ubilskryhrosa.  It’s a mean, evil monster that howls in the night, and its icy grip is trying to kill my satellite.  I spent most of the afternoon yesterday chipping ice of the damned thing.  I worked all night in the greenhouse transplanting my tomatoes and basil—it’s surprisingly ice free—then again, it is sheltered a bit from the wind by the station.  I let Pete in with me for the first time and he did pretty well, of course his first urge was to mark the entire place, but when I convinced him that didn’t need to happen he laid down by the door and stood guard. 

I’ve been getting odd wind data from the probes—It will go in one direction all day, and then suddenly change direction repeatedly after sunset.  Perhaps something to do with the temperature, but it could be that something’s knocking them around in the dark.  Today I’m going to set up a camera for surveillance.  Maybe it’s interfering with the collars I put on the wolves somehow? 

I love you forever.

Nadari

03 December

03 December

Dear Gabriel,

The snow has come and it is bitter bitter cold.  I haven't left the station in two days.  Pete has ventured out the back door a few times, but he's usually back and begging to be let in after ten minutes of romping.  The view from the door was pretty this morning.  The wind was quiet for a few moments and the sun was just coming up-- the cold blue light of winter just casting the first few rays of light into the darkness.  I felt as if I wasn't entirely alone up here, as though I would turn back and find the kitchen full and you at the piano, singin one of your sweet little ballads to me. 

The day awaits!

I love you forever.

Nadari