The rain we've had for the past twenty four hours has officially changed over to snow. Such is life up in the hills. They said it might accumulate overnight, and since it's already started I'd guess that's a given.
We've had an uncharacteristically warm spell all this week. I was at the library Tuesday all day. There is a forsythia bush right outside the window behind the checkout desk. Tuesday it was still tight and dead.
Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of George's death. I wouldn't have necessarily thought of it, but my husband brought it up this morning and it struck me how much he still mourns for him. And we both do, if you make me think about it. Even though we now have Rosie and she's a very good dog, we both still have times when we wonder where George is, or we hear him in the house, or we think "George isn't going to like it when he sees this".
The Weasel came by to pick up her dog--We've been dog sitting for a week and a half while she was out west. Las Vegas and Arizona. Apparently stopped very briefly at one of the rims of the Grand Canyon, just to snap a picture and jump back in the car.
And also, apparently, to stop however briefly at the gift shop.