Work Text:
November 1
Great Bear Ridge
Igloo
Dear Child,
Tonight we dined at the Polar Bears’ Midnight Feast!
I told Roo what an honour it was for us to be invited. She sniffed quite judgmentally, but nevertheless, we did our best to put on our finery to attend the Midnight Feast.
I must say, one stretches the definition of finery when one’s sole possessions consist of a sleeping bag, a stove, a one iron, a handful of golf balls, a pair of Wellingtons, and a woolly hat. I offered the hat to Roo, but she said she’s allergic to red wool.
Penguin gifted me a piece of seaweed that he braided into a necklace. It has a fishy waft, but it was still a nice gesture. Between the seaweed necklace and my red woolly hat and my one iron for a walking stick, I felt quite jaunty.
The wolves and seals and sea lions and gulls and arctic foxes were all in attendance. The whole feast took place on an ice floe so the whales could swim along beside us and attend the festivities as well.
I inquired about the penguins, and learned that they apparently live even further north than Great Bear Ridge. You’ll have to send my apologies to your mother, but I may have to extend my journey here in order to accompany Penguin safely home.
Anyway, it was a magnificent feast! As we floated along on the ice floe, dining on several varieties of fish, as well as seaweed salad and barnacles and tinned pineapple (polar bears love pineapple), the sky erupted into colours, dancing above our heads: the Aurora Borealis. Oh, Child, what a sight!
To my surprise, Roo got up on top of the table and started to dance a jig. And wouldn’t you believe it – all the other animals joined in, holding paws on the ice floe, and dancing together under the shifting green and purple lights that lit up the expanse of the sky.
Finally, everyone was tired from dancing, and ice cream was served for dessert. Roo was grumpy that I’d oversold the variety of flavours Great Bear Ridge has to offer, for as it turned out, all they had was vanilla. She only ate six bowls.
Now we’re back in our igloo, bellies full and tired out from Midnight Feasting. Roo and Penguin are tucked up in the sleeping bag, but I’m staying up to write this to you because one of the sea lions agreed to drop it off for me in the post office in Walrus Bay. He’s swimming down tomorrow for a visit to his great aunt Mildred.
Tell your mother to knit me a blue woolly hat, if she can. Surely a dog can’t be allergic to blue wool as well as red.
Good night, Child.
Your Grandfather