The Manchurian Newscaster

I think winter has come. I’m not sure I mean that in a seasonal way, or a “Game Of Thrones” way. The waterline has officially frozen from the pond and the lines have been drained. If my little bay was a snow globe, someone has definitely shaken it. I made friends with an ermine when he was still brown. He’s white now and all I have to do to see him is walk out on the porch and call him. “Herman? Herman?” He stays pretty close and I’m happy to have him for a neighbor. He kills shrews and other…