Seems with the sudden plunge in outdoor temperatures last week, Sam's suffering a severe case of autumn pyrexia (the exact opposite of spring fever, only the same thing).
This past Saturday morning we awoke to find 4 inches of snow on the patio. That's the day we took these pictures. I should have waited until the next morning. That's because we discovered seven inches in the backyard Sunday!
With the snow I detected a renewed desire in Sam to play. Recalling the snow experiences from my days as an Oregon youth, I accommodated Sam. The snow packed wonderfully, so I tried to show him how to build a snowman, but in rolling the snow, I made it too big to hoist it's middle onto its base. Sam lost interest.
I made a snowball and tossed it at Sam instead. He caught it and ran with it, taunting me to chase him. And so I did, retrieving it from him and throwing it to him again and again. Sam really enjoyed this game until, sadly, he dropped the snowball and we couldn't find it.
But I have to say, more than anyone, Sam keeps me planted in a better reality. Mrs. Dada doesn't help like Sammy does. That's because she shares the same anger and angst as I, watching the nation burn a little further to the ground daily. But Sam distracts us both, many, many hours each week , and for that we owe him big time. (Even though his talents as my blog editor are slipping badly.)