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

23 November

23 November

Dear Gabriel

          They’re leaving.  Which leaves only me-- and the dog.  They’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.   The post will come every two weeks –only- with them gone.  So. . . expect large packages of letters. 

The dog needs a name.  I’m thinking Pete.  It suits him nicely. 

I’m going to put flags up along the trails today – in the snow it’s impossible to tell what goes where, this way if I get caught up in a storm I’ll find my way back ok.  Levi’s boys put a rope up the main path for me that goes right to the front door of the research station. 

The wolves came around last night.  Their howling scared poor Pete half to death, he jumped right into bed with me.  Some protector.  The pack has grown, two new youngsters--both female, I think—were out with them, hunting.  They stopped for a moment on the ridge and were illuminated by the moonlight.  I wish you were her to see it. 

I love you forever.

Nadari

21 November

21 November

Dear Gabriel, 

It's getting colder, already.  You left just last week, and the hours without you seem to ooze by, like sap from a tree.  Thanks to you I have enough supplies for winter.  I have begun collecting water, just in case the ice comes early.  The villagers seem to think the winter will be far worse this year, there was talk today of them moving further south, away from what they call the “ubilskryhrosa” – roughly translated to frozen evil, or evil chill. 

I cannot, and will not, leave my research now, not when I am so close.  I'll be the only one at the station this winter.  The base will send reinforcements every eight weeks, instead of every three as planned.  There was some trouble obtaining the permits again. 

I’ve taken in a dog, found him sniffing around the garden.  He’s maybe six months old, and a silvery white, after I washed all the dirt from his fur.  He’ll make a nice companion, maybe even chase off any raiders, should they turn up again this year.  Oh, and he’s laid claim to your favorite chair, curled up asleep there now. 

Work to be done, as always.  Today I’m reinforcing the roof, building a passageway to the storeshed and, of course, harvesting firewood.  Levi and his boys will be helping, of course, and Sarah, bless her is quilting up a storm. 

I love you forever.

Nadari