day 43, 10:00 p.m. Quatse time

i am in my tent surrounded by these tall, stately, old cedar trees and no humans. my dogs are sleeping near me, Leben covered with his red blanket, Erde occasionally running in her sleep chasing imagined animals and only she and God  know what else.  it is cold  outside, but warmer in the tent, and raining, more than a drizzle, less than a downpour.   the canopy offers no relief from the rain, which has mercylessly extinguished the fire i labored so hard to build.  I am reading Sylvain Tesson's Consolations of the Forest about the six winter months he spent in a cabin, alone, in Siberia on Lake Baikal, and i envy him.  I am sipping some 2012 Pinot Noir left over from yesterday.  Wagner's Gotterdammerung is playing from my iPad.  tomorrow's weather, or my plans, are of no interest to me now.  What more could a man ask for?