It was quite the skid.

Small pleasures.

Fairly comfortable, considering.

The overwhelming sense is one of living in the mountains.

(I can assure you that my mane is intact.)

These things matter only to me.

Morning light sweeping toward me across the valley, one of the best parts of my day.

(And while you're at it, shiver me timbers.)

(Also known as "The Ides of March.")

I was unable to resist the pull.