Go Up The Country

I packed Buster in the car and headed up to the Macedon Shack. I had struggled a little all week, all self inflicted, of course, so alone time was needed, and solitude with my best friend, let’s just call Buster what he is.

The shack is cold and dark when I get there, the first thing to do is light the fire and the stove. I shiver until the orange flames are licking at the cut wood.

Then Buster and I sit with the fire lighting up our faces.

Injuries to speak off, a sore neck.