It's snowing here in the Rockies. That's my piazza where I drink beer, wrestle with my snarling curs, and grill the bears and wildcats I stalk and kill in the ravine out yonder...just me and my bowie knife...and where I have solved many of the world's problems (if only the world would listen!).
And it's still coming down.
Oh, well, I have plenty of beer, and I just finished a new Frank Leslie book, the first in a new series about Confederate treasure hunters in Old Mexico, so I'll get by. Some unsuspecting bruin might even wander by, and I'll have fresh meat to grill out on the old piazza tonight.