Nomadic Winter

A Scottish December. The obvious time to choose to move into a yurt. A month of peeing under the stars, not moving a muscle under the warm covers to lay and watch the icicles melt on the window pane outside. First task upon surfacing: light the stove! Out to follow the latest animal prints in the snow, down the hill to feel the warm horse’s breath upon my frozen nose.

 

 

 

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