On a walk yesterday, 1000 feet elevation. Little grainy patches of snow were all that remained from last weekend's snowfall, and the bog grasses/sedges were matted and glum. Wind was gusting, making alder leaves skitter across the road.

The ermine didn't skitter–it rippled, moving along the ground like a minnow along a streambed. I held my breath as it crossed a small meadow and dived into the gloom under a hemlock.

Then I walked on, with leaves skittering around my feet. This is my memory of that encounter.