Ushuaia. I love this word, the sound of it. Capital of Tierra del Fuego, launching point for Antarctic cruises, prison town. One day I will go there, soak it in.
But for now I’m slogging through February and March. The snow’s all sugary and the earth is stiff and the ‘check engine’ light is blinking. There remains much work to be done. The pipes are cold.
Advice from a dog: kick some grass over that shit and move on.