Looking west, I can’t ignore the dusting of snow in the high country, nor the cold pounding of the rain on our steel roof.

Fall is here.  The Indian paintbrush is fading, and the snowberries are blooming.  The loon chicks are almost able to fly.  Pseudo Sista is teaching again.

And though she is not old enough for school, Maggie is clearly embracing fall, too: she made a friend.

This is Wace.  He and his sister and Maggie are destined to be little farm buddies for many falls to come.

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