I was supposed to be hibernating, officially, thanks to testing positive for Covid-19. Standing by, I thought to myself. Standing by, I kept saying day after long wrenching waiting day.
During this time the dog may or may not have chased one’s car down the hill in order to get a daily walk. Safe for people. A bad habit for him.
After an extended hibernation – to wait out the Director’s Covid illness – I went out to see what there was to see. In the winter, in a village that is dying commercially.
I was shocked to see that the ville went to the trouble and added expense – the gas – of plowing a trail on the lake with the official skidoo. Larger than previous years’ trails. Things must be serious, I thought. Same politicians. Same sign at the offices telling complainers that verbal abuse will not be tolerated.
Things in the lake during the summer months are iffy. Could be much more fun. Floating docks, mostly. But other things. But the town does not subscribe to it.
But this winter, the curfew, the quarantines, must be getting even to the mayor. Now the lake is a destination while frozen.
But then this errant stick of butter sitting by the path on the lake.
No one seemed to talk about it.
Not the other dog walkers on the large path on the lake. Perfect for paws, protection from salt and sand.
Even the dogs didn’t eat the butter.