The weather has decided to take a blessed turn. The sun has come out, and the reflection off this white blanket, carpeting the world, is almost painful to look at. But it is melting now, steadily, with a pleasant sound of dripping icicles and little cascades of snow from tree boughs - one managed to find its way onto my head just now, in fact. Thankfully, this little book was spared! Winter is not over. It is hardly begun, in fact. But this is a welcome reprieve.
My chosen spot is an outcropping of rock against the sloping hillside, with an easy climb to the top, where I can hunker down and not be seen from below. A stand of pine trees has generously provided additional cover, yet a space between them allows me a clear view of the old road leading south, into the ruins. I've not yet seen anyone coming or going, but a thin string of grey smoke from within betrays their presence.
The days to come will likely not be filled with excitement, as I am merely to watch and record what I see, until this post can be filled properly. I will not complain if the sun decides to grant me her company each day, and keep away further snows. Perhaps I will try my hand at a drawing, as was suggested to me, as a way to fill the lonely hours here. I do not know what I would draw. The scene before me? That might be easiest. At least there are none here to laugh at my lack of prowess. Well, besides myself.
