In the pre-dawn darkness, someone was ransacking the dog yard.

I could see the beam of a headlamp sweeping over the dog houses and iluminating one by one various dogs in what must have been the largest scale dogknapping in the history of Alaska. Then, a broader beam of light rolled out across the driveway - headlights.

What should I do? Run down to the driveway to block the vehicle's exit? InReach message Brent who was working the night shift at the mine? Grab the wood splitting axe and chase the perpetrator down? The options were all mediocre at best, unlikely to save Woody, Jackson, Treason, and some eleven other dogs who were about to literally disappear into the night.

Nevermind. As the vehicle passed below the window, I realized it was in fact Brent leavng on an extra early morning run. Turns out he got off from work early and wanted to get some miles in on his core race team.

That was his first long run of the season, over 10 miles, which he had to complete entirely in the dark to keep the dogs from overheating. Fall has come fast here in Eureka, but we're not yet into the negative temperatures preferred by Alaskan huskies who have coats designed for work in the extreme cold. We've moved from raking dog fur to raking leaves, as the dogs have finished their summer shedding and now the trees are shedding their leaves.

We've had one overnight frost so far, with little ice discs forming at the top of each water pail, but temperatures quickly bounced back to rainy mornings followed by sunny afternoons. These days, I never know whether to stoke the woodstove or open the doors and windows to cool off the cabin. Each morning, the day's weather is anyone's guess, though we can usually count on it being wet.

When the freeze really sets in, daily operations will change drastically as we reign in our consumption of all sorts - water, fuel, electricity. We'll have a few weeks without snow, but even that will be shortlived (hopefully, since sledding requires snow!). Until then, dog runs look like heists - happening in the wee hours on four wheelers, in the limbo of a quick and fickle fall.