We were supposed to fly for our collared elk again this morning.

But when you can barely see the bottom of the Divide south of town, and not the top, and a recently landed pilot says the mountains are all socked in, and the friend that the pilot called who lives forty miles south in the Valley says they're socked in, well...

You go back to the airport.

We kept checking the weather and skies all morning, and into the afternoon.

Finally, around two o'clock, we called it for the day.

And I finally got to have something to eat, and drink.

We're tentatively rescheduled for tomorrow at two-thirty, but since the television has been broadcasting winter storm alerts for the past couple hours, announcing that we're expected to receive 12 inches or more of new snowfall, with 40-50 mph winds, in the next 24 hours...

I'll bet not.

Maybe Saturday morning. Which will probably mess up plans to meet a friend's friends from California with three deer that we want to check for chronic wasting disease.

It bodes to be just a wonderful winter.