The good news is that there must be some semblance of spring (if not summer) because I saw a total of three robins today. They sing a slightly different song here, as if they speak the same language as their eastern relatives, but with an accent, or a slightly different dialect. Anyway, it was heart-warming to see them. And, somewhere near the Arts Centre, furry crocuses are growing. Seriously furry. I'll get pictures, I promise. Speaking of pictures, I have some nice shots up at deviantArt. Anyway, I will seek out said crocuses if only to prove that there is something growing in this ridiculously harsh climate.

Nevermind climate. Timezones. They suck. Granted, we've both been busy since my return to Whitehorse, but I've hardly had a chance to talk to Gareth all week. Not to mention that taking the bus home from work takes so much longer than driving does that it's already really late where he is by the time I fire up Kinsey and get online again. A remedy for this might be for me to get up earlier and enjoy some online time with him before I head off to work, but eight hours is a lot of difference to overcome. It hurts a bit, because I want to talk with him. Well, I never said it would be easy to handle the distance or separation, but I know that when I'm with him, there's no other place I'd rather be. We'll figure it out eventually, but it's frustrating.

Anyway, more about my trip, hm? The first night in Wales... I tried to be awake and engaged, but after a nearly sleepless flight (thanks to the hostile French couple sitting in the seats in front of me - a story for another time), I decided to lie down for a nap around six o'clock. At nine o'clock it became apparent that I wasn't going to be getting up for dinner and pretty much slept through the night. That first morning, waking up at Cwm Farm, was really lovely. I felt much better. Refreshed. Of course, then there was the challenge of getting the coffee maker to work. This machine took raw beans and spat out hot, delicious coffee. If only we could get it to work. It took three of us (Gareth, myself, and the daughter of his mum's boyfriend) to make it function. Following an uninspired breakfast, we went out to explore the farm. It was so beautiful. Holly trees, gorse in full bloom, everything green and shining with moisture. It was very much like a fairy tale. After seeing the photographs I took of the farm, one friend of mine asked me if it was alright for him to imagine that it was actually Middle Earth and not Wales. In my mind, why can't Wales be Middle Earth? Close enough to the place in which Tolkein was writing, isn't it?

Except that I don't recall a tale from Middle Earth that involved hundreds of small migrating spiders running through the wet grass. As an arachnaphobe, I just had to grin and bear it. They were everywhere. Interestingly, only on a certain terrain and I didn't come across anywhere near the numbers of them at any other place we visited. I expected to find them at the Botanical Gardens, but I didn't. Perhaps these were a special species: Running Cwm Spider. Needless to say, I made sure to keep walking where ever they were, because my phobic imagination had them running over my shoes and up my pantlegs. Because isn't that what every spider wants to do? Run up your pantleg and bite your thighs? No? Oh.

OH ! Before I sign off, because I'm really tired and it's pushing 2am, I have put in an application for a cat at the Yukon Humane Society. His name is Chacko and he's very small, a runt. He's shy and not comfortable with humans, though he's really bonded to another cat. I'm hoping that he will handle the separation alright and discover that I am a good person to bond to. He's black and white and delightful. If I get him, I'll probably pick him up mid-week, once I'm in my new apartment.