Day 19.

It's snowing out, little flakes that aren't accumulating on the ground, since it's still above freezing. The snow's a nice break from dismal gray.

I've discovered that the only thing that burns worse than aspen is wet aspen. It's like nature designed the tree specifically to suck at providing heat. I've chopped up some birch deadfall I found in the woods, and that's much nicer.

Yesterday, I finished up the chapter I'd started the night before and found myself unable to write anything new. So I just combed back through everything, doing a little rewriting and feeling bored and spent and a little lonely. The nonstop rain didn't help much, since I couldn't even go outside.

The dog was hating the rain; he was constantly bugging my to let him out, and I'd do so, and he'd venture out nervously and then dart right back inside, his tail between his legs. And five minutes later he'd be nosing my hand again to go out. After dark, I had to pee myself, and put on a jacket to do that. The dog watched me from the door as I peed in the driving rain. He's such a desert wuss.

No sign of the curmudgeon. He hasn't been around and when I took a short walk yesterday afternoon down the bank, during a break in the rain, I didn't see any lights or smoke at any of the other cabins. He seems to have been an apparition. Or maybe he travelled from the future to warn me about the dangers of being grumpy. Maybe he's me!

I've got stock on the stove right now, which I'm now thinking was just a tremendous waste of water, although those lamb bones do smell good. I'm also thinking that I'd love to barbecue some chicken—or better yet, smoke it—but I'll have to wait for a dry day to do it.