The rug won't dry

If it's left outside in the snow.

Farewell, sweet Tiger.

You're now the biggest little cat in Heaven.

Argh.

Why did you close that file while I was working on it and hadn't saved?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why couldn't you have done that before I spent a half hour typing that new bit in?
And what the heck went wrong that made you need to close the document?
It's not like it was the Internet.
Oh well.
It's retyped now.
And I have to admit, I like it better.
But don't think that that gives you permission to do it again.

Trees finished and birded.

And so long as I don't look at it too closely, I like it.
Besides, if I wanted it to be perfect, I would have made it on a computer.
I just have to remember the paintings from the museum and the imperfections that get smoothed out in photographs.
And also the words of the immortal Bob Ross: "We don't make mistakes.  We have happy accidents."
Now on to Fall.

Forget Phillip.

Merryweather was the real hero.