Ruckus and his shadow stalk through a patch of flattened leaves.
Somewhere under that snow is my garden spot.
Anna poses attractively on the snowpile where she stores her favorite disgusting bone.
Believe or not, these flowers are actually blooming in my yard. They are not plastic facsimiles.
The woodshed peeks out from behind the remnant of a giant snowpile.
Portrait of a bad driving decision
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