Whew! It got pretty cold out there on the porch (but this is no reflection at all upon Uilleand!) once the sun went below the horizon. I think I'll sip a little Irish coffee and head over the hot tub to warm up.

But while the sun was still glowing brightly above the mountains, the trees were putting on such a wonderful show. The hickories were like shining gold, the oaks were as if dipped in claret and the poplars shimmered and shook in the breeze like the "flappers" of the prohibition years. And the sun glinting off the river turned it to a strand of hammered silver.

All of this loveliness was but a backdrop to the beauty of what took place on the porch...

Or at least, it would have been except that Uilleand insisted upon spending most of the time chasing some little bugs which were crawling up the walls of the tavern near the porch light. She's still out there and probably has quite a collection by now.

I'm thinking that in the future we may have to limit her to only two shooters.