Spent too much sweat down in those Virginia mountains, Bobert ol' buddy. Between sweat, humidity, skeeters, hornets, and all that crap I don't feel like plowing snow as well. 'Course, it is awful purty when it's all green and fresh and after a shower it smells like heaven must. But then that same shower floods the runs and they in turn flood the roads and you.

Nah, give me the mountains out here. 4800 feet above sea level, 40F degrees today, the snow is melting, and with the global warming thing I expect any day to find myself owning beachfront property. If ol' Amos comes by in a life jacket or a kayak maybe I'll take him in, maybe, as I lay in the sunshine and sip beer.