No Gold, No Rush

SCRUNCH, SCRUNCH. Days of semi-thaws and sub-zero nights had made skiing impossible but walking or running treacherous. Out came the snowshoes. 

In my woolens, parka, and footgear, I fancied myself a character in a Jack London novel, with only a few deviations from the Klondike norm. My usually-loyal canine companion had decided instead to accompany Hubby on a more beaten path. I wasn't shadowed by wolves but by our horses, Sugar and Solly. My prescription sunglasses had fogged and frozen, leaving me nearly blind, but no matter, there was no hidden crevasse to sidestep, Yukon River to fall into, or Chilkoot Trail to lose. And, alas, my prospects for finding gold were poor indeed. 

Okay, perhaps London was a bit of a stretch. 

"God cast you in His play, wrote you into His story." ~Max Lucado