… on ports in a storm (just kidding. They’re shepHerds.)


Oh… this doesn’t even do it justice.

It’s not just snowing outside.

It’s snowing.

And it’s cold and it’s windy and it’s… well, it’s literally not fit for man nor beast.


The ShepHerds seem to think someone is sprinkling the world with beef tidbits. Which means they really, really need to be outside. So a little while ago, instead of just letting them out the back door so they could bound around and dig and dig and dig through all the white stuff and get all excited when they hit the ground (which, I keep telling them has been there this whole time)… I decided to grab my camera and go out with them.

Which caused a whole new level of commotion because The Supervisor was putting things on her feet.

They could not remind me where the door was fast enough, or enough times.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

And many sound effects emitted by one Marshal Dillon Dingle to reinforce his message.

Soon I was forcing the door open into the wind, and the snow actually wHapped me in the face. I sheltered my camera in my coat and tromped down the stairs, and then sideways stepped my way down some more, and soon I was in my yard with wind and snow and ShepHerds whirling around me. There was just no way to capture them.

They had become blurs.

There was a distinct possibility that they would never return to their former solid states. I half-wondered how they’d feel as blurs. Maybe something like an oddly cold oil slick vs. the thick, soft winter coats they went out with.

JoHn’s gonna kill me when he got back from New York.

You know, if he ever gets back (it’s a pretty good storm!)

At one point, I stopped fighting the weather and popped my lens cap back on and just chuckled.

Threw my hands, complete with their stiffening fingers, out beside me and took notice.

It was gorgeous.

White, white everywhere.

Dogs showing me the way to revel in the craziness… find the joy in change.

Later I’ll pick my important battles. I’ll snowplow my driveway and paths, clear the ice off my stoops. Make my everyday life stuff possible.

But until then…

I finally took advantage of a break in the wind to capture a happy ShepHerd with his newly dug-up ball.


Plopping himself down, here and there to enjoy it.


I swear, if I never called him in, he’d have allowed himself to be tucked in, then buried, by Mother Nature’s blanket…


The eternal puppy…


Watched over by a certain Princess, as the snow flew.


Thanks for readin’.

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