While J. and K. returned to Philly after our round of dinner and drinks, I returned to Mr. Ass' homestead. The next morning a team effort bore a breakfast of eggs and hash browns. I didn't really do very much in this team, past peeling some potatoes; Mr. Ass and his mother did more of the work.
The dogs have it rough.
I liked all the bird prints on the snow. I began to think of them as bird hieroglyphics.