Holy frijoles! It's a whopping -5° today. One of the visual artists, a lady of hearty Swedish stock, keeps cross-country skis outside of her studio, and a group of residents went snowshoeing yesterday. I... slept through it. Of the 1000 acres here on the ranch, I have explored about .5 acres. But I will say that I've successfully completed one section (14K words) of the novel, even though I realize it's misshapen and ungainly. Nonetheless, it's one more done section than when I arrived.
So, I give you the Big Horn mountains at dawn: