Well it appears that the storm has passed. The sky is bright blue, the clouds have gone, the snow is blanketed on the ground.
Monty is eager to go outside and explore. He stands by the stairs at the back door and pips and squeaks until someone delivers him like a package out onto the snow-covered back step.
The patio furniture is not amused with the obscuring lumphish covering.
The car is blanketed and surrounded.
The roof is aghast and wondering what cumbrous monstrosity looms over it.
Monty stays close to the house where the snow is shallow and warily observes the birds by the feeder. He will wait until later to gather the courage to venture forth.
He returns to the inside. I will wait for the snow to shovel itself.
Mungo
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