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He dreamed of herding sheep but is now ploughing a potato field in , where dreams of glory sink in the bogs. The bogs are beautiful here – after all, they're made of sunken dreams.

Pietruszka, of the terrifying pack, on the corpse of her victim (that's what I think she is thinking, I might be wrong)

There's lots of interesting stuff underground at the edge of a meadow. Layers of coal are a few hundred meters below, but we hope they won't reach that deep. They come back with black noses and feet anyway.

Moro and Pietruszka waiting for the reward for climbing that tall tree. Masza managed to join them later and was rewarded too.

Waiting for the road to either freeze up or dry up so we can boldly go where no wolf has gone this year.

Frosty morning in the of . Incidentally Frosty Morning is the name of the tea I'll have when I get back home.

Two plant species in this picture, Canadian goldenrod in the foreground and wild black cherry in the background, are highly invasive in . Unfortunately they will survive.

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The only bright color here is the stump of a wild black cherry tree.

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