Fate ran in her meadow today, it was cold but sunny, winter is just an echo this year, a shadow. The warmth has shattered the winter economy, so many people here make their living off of snow, of plowing, shoveling, fixing up cars that slide into trees. The ski resorts are aching, the hardware stores have lots of shovels and salt.

There is really little or no year-end economy in most of rural America apart from the remaining family and corporate farms and health care, the people who live here patch together their incomes doing different things. Their work is fragile, easily upended by changes in weather or the economy.

Many live off the transplants who need help maintaining their properties and dealing with the weather.

For the animals, life is good. There is still some grass to nibble on – they can graze – and there have only been a few bitingly cold days. Fate lives to roam in her meadow, she vanishes into the grass and brush and pops out far from where she went in. I think of her as the Queen of the meadow, I am sure she could live here if she wished.

She has an ear for mice and chipmunks and rabbits, and digs into the marsh for a drink when she is thirsty.  Sometimes she taks off on a wide run and full speed, sometimes she pauses and pounces on a chipmunk or mole. She does not catch them, but loves to hunt them. She seems to soak in the life of the meadow, it feels sometimes as if she is fulfilling the destiny of the dog. It is good we live where we do, I cannot imagine this dog in a city or suburb.