A summer drawing trip. It hit the twenties last night. Snow not only caps distant mountains, it interrupts our trail to the toilets and to the Madison River along which we camp. My tent is not waterproof, ice or hail proof. Ask me how I know. I woke in the night thinking I was making lots of steam on the outside of my sleeping bag. No steam, but lots of rain and melted ice. The sun is finally breaking through and I am down to my fleece pullover and still forever grateful I listened to Leila about bringing long underwear. A buffalo loped across the river at dusk last night.
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