Smokey Mountain Breakdown

When I woke up today, the sky and the air smelled of snow. The gravid clouds hung in the pink sky like men with big bellies. Those clouds weren't going anywhere soon. They needed a nap. The odd thing about when the weather changes to cold in the South is the strangely warm day that precedes the drop in temperatures. Today was that day.

It's not a day where you become happy and rush outside to do things because the weather is so nice. No, this day threatens. The warm wind in ominous, dry with the promise of hurt. Bad things seem to be promised on such days. Bad things sometimes happen on the oddly warm day before the snow and ice and hail.

Today, Rose Goat fell from the 300 foot cliff, breaking her hip. The local farm boys shot her for me. I couldn't get to where she was across the creek, but they were kind enough to come tell me. Yang, her boy, is home now. I don't think he'll stray. Rose was the one with wanderlust. I'm philosophical about it. I can't get too worked up--the little bitch never would stay where she was supposed to. But who would have thought something as sure footed as a goat would fall? It may have been the bobcat after her--he lives up there somewhere.