In darkness, we stepped through the portal into a heavy mist. What could be seen by solar light glistened. No eyes watched us. Fenced-in-land held water in uneven bowls, pile of snow once high as the deck thinner. No stars. No fluffy clouds. No moon.

     Rain greets as we step onto the deck. No one turns back. Moon visible hours before sunset, invisible now. Rain burbles through gutters on its way to ground the same burbling heard yesterday as sun heating the roof morphed snow into liquid. The three came in one by one with the precise timing of getting each fully dry with the beach towel before the next arrived. Three deer lingered while we were out before breakfast yesterday, in a place where Zayne had seen them before. As I placed three bowls on the counter, a deer came into view, soon there was another with last year’s fawn, they nibbled small evergreens, moved on.

     I see the stream briefly until solar lights come on shining toward the house lighting fence perimeter as the three walk about. Yesterday a pair of crows in sky blue with fluffy clouds. Too early now for birds, for traffic. Not too early to think about sausage, cheese, biscuits, coffee, maple syrup perhaps onion.

     Lights follow the three through fenced-in land. No feet sink into crunchy snow. Frost on cars, chain links, tractor. All is quiet. Morning turns up her light. We gather in the kitchen for biscuits, for coffee. The three return to sleep.

     Sky between dark and dawn. Sensor lights turn on. Quiet. Landscape snow-covered. Stream not flowing. Giants stop. Look at each other; a chase begins. The three sit in the kitchen for a biscuit, ask to go outside again.

     Sky morphs gray into blue. Sun rises over gray trees, evergreens, bare ground. Frost. Tufted Titmouse, Chickadee, rooster cast their voices on air. Stars last night, moon as if tangled in branches invisible with morning. The three parade around fenced-in frozen land each one spending time under the deck as if it’s a hideout requiring a password. Ground undisturbed by whatever made paths under snow resembling tree branches. Giants head for their room instead of sitting in the kitchen for a biscuit. I put biscuits in my pocket for them.

     Fat dollops of snow morphed into rain in warm overnight temperatures reducing ratio of snow to ground. Snowfall forecast Sunday into Monday 3-6 inches. (Last night it was 3-7.)

Traffic, Tufted Titmouse, Hairy Woodpecker, American Crow. Heavy frost, clear skies. Soleil between trees, reaches the far wall of my room, books of psychology, the meaning of color. Leaves captured in ice see light as snow recedes.

     Sky, an over-stuffed comforter of clouds. Stars at last call muted. Something startled the giants to barking after I examined morning, came inside with Ruger. Not enough light to see the stream no longer rushing it is not heard. Tuft of Ruger hair like a feather shed beside my chair. I hear him drinking then he will settle on the living room rug or in here. The giants sleep. The furnace hums.

     Bright sun greets the second time we put feet on the deck. The first time, about 0500, stars salted the sky. Ground solid again under the three, happy to explore cold. Stream breaches boundaries, displays ice assimilated over night. Trees tired from the dance of wind stand still.

     Trees sing with the wind making the three wary. Landscape mostly brown. I want to stand on deck, look around, take pictures. The three want to go through the portal to quiet, to biscuits to beds. High wind warnings.

     Sleep ended at 11 with a giant barking in his sleep probably running too but by the time I turned on a light both were awake looking at me. No one asked to go outside. No one got up. I turned off the light.