As soon as the sun was up Friday morning, I went walking in the snow; I'd taken my coveralls and boots for this occasion. When I opened the front door and went out, Jake seemed to know what I had in mind, and headed for a path that leads into the woods. It was quite refreshing. If I fell too far behind that giant of a dog, he'd stop and look back, waiting for me. At one point I heard something that I thought might be wolves howling; I found out later that the next neighbor on Rena's road has sled dogs, and they often howl in unison. It was an eerie sound, and I was glad Jake was with me.
Saturday I talked Cliff into taking the walk with me, and once again, Jake was our guide.
Sunday morning the temperatures were much warmer, around the freezing mark... but it was sleeting. So for our first hour or so, on the way home, Pat drove slowly and carefully. Once we got beyond that, he went back to his speeding. But he looked good doing it. (That's one of his favorite sayings.) We ran into huge, long lines of traffic, but our journey home still only took about twelve hours. I do love a road trip.
Back to life as usual.