Frost

That stuff on my windshield.  Not liquid.  Hard.

May warm up enough for a bike ride later.

Tuesday no-roadkill report

Well, something committed vehicular suicide out on the hill down to the bog, about raccoon or woodchuck size, but the rule says that if I can't even guess as to genus, I can't count it . . .

Warmed up into the upper 50s F by noon, 60 now, so I got out on the bike after lunch.  Sensitive fern browned out, more swamp maples bright crimson in the bog, the first tinge of yellowing on some of the tamarack needles.  Clear views out across the river and into the trees, if Thomas Jonathan Jackson happens to be interested.

First ride since last Tuesday.  Weather and Things have not cooperated.

15.26 miles, 1:06:14

And as a followup to yesterday's news . . .

Bullwinkle, post-Palin:

Hang 'em high!

Okay, I admit to a suspicious nature...

That bailout plan starts to smell like an advanced-level gotcha, one way or another.  Proposed with no oversight by legislative or judicial branches, guaranteed to raise hackles and cause any lawmaker with a set of cojones to dig in his or her* heels, but it's gotta be done by the end of the week . . .

And if we don't get it passed, the end of the (financial) world is nigh.

*You gonna argue that women in the national legislature don't have cojones?