The frost of a relentless winter's snap sweats eagerly upon exposure to blue steel, then quickly evaporates amidst a promise of flora and fauna sprung anew. And just as quickly, renewal turns to melancholy, melancholy to busy-foot. Gaze fixated into wide, kind eyes overlooking the mantle of my blazing fireplace, the seasons of my mind ebb and flow toward that realm which has yet to pass. Eight months, interminable, unyielding, 'til next season's hunt.