Some of you might remember me writing about the day I first encountered the wolves down in Anacortes, and my incandescent relationship with them.
My first Day of the Wolf was now more than two years ago, astonishingly, but THIS year, 2021, has been dark and dreadful – after losing my husband in February I have been stumbling around in a deep forest so gnarled and ancient that underneath it there is nothing but shadow, and the occasional glimpse of sun is almost miraculous when it occurs – or else I have been swimming desperately, trying to stay afloat, in an ink-black ocean with only horizon all around me and no land in sight. Exhausted, mourning, in pain, I sought that glimpse of sunlight in the dark forest – I made for a remembered island of happiness.
I headed back to the wolves.
More, with pictures, at my website…