This

is how check station looked this morning. Was just cloudy when I set up my signs on my pulloff on the north side of town, but the clouds soon began to leak. Heavily.

Wave after wave of wind-driven rain. The kind where the paper on the passenger side of the dash gets wet from drops blown in through the driver's side window. Sideways rain.

Nonresidents peeking out their windows at me getting soaked by their door. Asking if it's always this windy here.

Wind? You mean this breeze?

The wife made her usual trip to rescue the heelers from their boredom after Mass, and stayed to visit for over an hour. And one of the wardens came by to join in. I spent most the time standing between the two trucks, in the rain. Trotting out to check hunters as they rolled in.

Then, somewhen around four-thirty, it all went away. Well, the rain, that is. Wind didn't die down until after sunset. But the huge, massive, cold front of rain clouds slipped silently to the east, and we had pure blue skies.

Revealing the new dusting of snow on the high peaks.

Supposed to drop snow down to our elevation tomorrow, or maybe Tuesday. Just in time for our traveling to the Yellowstone country (for five days, if I hadn't mentioned it).

Shortly after the rains quit, this nice bull was brought in. By a happy archer from the mountains to the north.

And yeah, I got to hear the whole story.

And no, I didn't mind.

As the country dried out, the pronghorn across the highway got up to feed. Caught sight of two of them running amok through the pasture, and figured it was the herd buck driving off an interloper.

Nope. The herd buck, alright, but he was driving after a doe. Obviously she wasn't feeling receptive to his advances, and obviously he was unwilling to take 'no' for an answer. Don't know how it all came out, but I suspect 'no' means 'no' until she decides to say 'yes'.

Ended the day with my cowboy friend stopping by, just to talk. He's getting pretty used to town life. Hasn't shot any neighbors yet, anyway. May even learn to like it if he keeps getting to spend his weekends out working on the ranch.

The little maskless heeler's hindleg isn't much better today. She touches it to the ground, but doesn't use it. And chases around the house with her sister like she was born to three legs. Wife plans to get her in the vet tomorrow (I've got three antelope seasons opening up, and another check station to run).

In the rain. (Or snow.)