All the way up the walk to the front of the complex; across the new bridge to the trail. Five inches of snow, and one set of footprints.
As I trudge along the path, Scrappy dances through the deep snow, limpy-gimpy and all.
|Dig, dig, dig... I know you're down there somewhere...|
Stumble down the trail, slide down the ditch. Trip over the footbridge, march back home. 8:50 AM, 19.9 degrees F.