I was driving to the radio station out in rural Grand Forks this morning where I do my weekly call-in radio show when I saw a white Husky running along the side of the road. I pulled over to watch him when he stopped and turned to check me out, his electric blue eyes holding me, magical and fixated.

He suddenly took off at full speed, reminding me of Skoll, the wolf of Norse mythology as he blended into the snow-covered fields to greet the sunrise, replete with what I imagined to be his brothers, the sun dogs. After he finished his task of chasing Árvakr and Alsviðr to get the sun up for today, I wondered if his imagination followed the same path.

As the sun filled the clear sky, I was drawn back to the consciousness of sitting in my truck at the side of the road. I wish I’d gotten his picture as I was concerned that he might be someone’s dog that was lost on this frigid morning. Seeing he had a collar on when he flipped around and bolted toward the subdivision that rings the southern border of the city, I imagined he became aware of our presence in the 21st century too, having enjoyed the shared moment of our ancient Nordic past on this winter’s day.