At this time of year, light seems to flood back to Fairbanks: there’s daylight turning the bedroom grey before I get up, and daylight at the end of the day when I’ve been staring at my laptop for too long and need to take the dog for a walk. And yet: it can be cold out, and the snow’s still thick on the ground. Yesterday a brisk wind knifed up the hill when the dog and I turned back for home, an icy relentless wind. How like a bubble the house feels on such days, full of warmth and the smells of food, no wind coming at us, no cold. And on this day nearly two weeks after Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, I think of those people who’ve had to flee their own homes, and those who’ve been killed or lost loved ones. Life is brutal enough without war.