And is Mine One? Said Abou.

There´s a lake on my terrace. I´m thinking of breeding rare frogs and water lilies. Fresh meat and salad for the barbie.
In Hemingway´s "Alpine Idyllic" an old man uses his frozen dead wife, propped up against the woodshed wall, as a lantern support. He loved her when she was alive, he loved her when she was dead. As a lamp stand.
It reminded me of a story I heard on the radio many years ago of an old trapper working way up North somewhere in Canada or Alaska. Wrapped in animal furs with a beautiful Russian style fur hat, the trapper was telling the interviewer about a dog he once had.
"That dog was my best friend and companion. He went with me everywhere, even probably saved my life on more than one occasion with his body heat as we slept close together during blizzards."
"And where is the dog now", asked the interviewer.
"He died"
"Did you bury him in the frozen wastes?"
"Oh no, I made this wonderful hat!"
When Dylan dies I´m going to make a fur coat. Toker the Dachs will do for a pair of gloves.
After four days of Torrential Rains (hence the lake on my terrace), Porto Alegre has woken to weak sunshine.
Nay not so, replied the Angel.