It's still snowing in the Rockies, not a major storm, more a shower to bring alpine flowers. I have plans to visit Gunnison that may change into swim trunks and take a right turn to our Jacuzzi. I've food and libation aplenty, plenty of firewood.
O is traveling with a friend from Nantucket to NOLA for the Jazz Fest. This is not a complaint about her being away, it's more a precursor to my soon to be homicidal feelings for her cat complaining about her being away.
We have a big house, an A frame. The ceilings can really ring with a howling banshee losing her cat damned mind and I've reached the rim of my gorge as I reach for her tail on the second day. The windmill in my left hand window sits muted, covered in snow. Suggests a peaceful resolution no matter how satisfying a kitty rocket could be. Swegen at my feet feels a shift in my weight, thinks it means a walk is imminent and I say no buddy, not just yet.