Good morning!
It's cloudy and cold outside. Yesterday was sunny with the wind out of the south and temperatures in the upper 70s. But around 6:30 PM, the wind changed directions, and we had rain in the night. Now it's in the 30s and not supposed to get out of the 40s today. Our yard has a thick carpet of leaves and some trees haven't lost their leaves yet.
This week I haven't written as much as I might have wished, but I worked the election on Tuesday and so was a little busy then. And today my nieces and nephews will be over mid afternoon until evening. That will be fun.
Writing camp is going well. Lots of chatting and writing. I'm at 50% of my goal already, which is nice. I know there will be days I won't get to write, so I like to get as much done early as I can. This is by far the largest camp we've ever had.
Well, I'm not going to make this long. I have other things to do before breakfast and then house cleaning. I hope you enjoy this next part.
    The stooped shoulders shook with laughter, and the faded eyes grew 
bright with mirth. “Now that was a good one, wasn’t it, Frisco? Us, the 
highest court in the United States. It does beat all what folks’ll say. 
Of course at that time we did have, oh I reckon ‘bout four hundred-fifty
 people livin’ here. Speaking of the highest,” with stiff fingers the 
old man pulled out a yellowed paper from his jacket pocket. “You 
remember this here advertisement ‘bout Animas Forks, don’t ya?” After 
clearing his throat a few times he held the paper up and read:
    “Animas Forks, the most populated town in the world.” The old man 
grinned and held the paper closer squinting to read the fine print under
 the headlines. “At this altitude.” The grin turned into a chuckle which
 in turn grew to a full and hearty laugh. The rocky mountain slopes 
tossed the laughter back and forth until it seemed that they too had 
joined in the joke. The old mine creaked more loudly as a stronger gust 
of wind swept down the mountainside.
    For several minutes the old man, the mine and the mountains enjoyed their merriment.
    “Well,” the man said at last, wiping his eyes, “I won’t read it all 
to ya as the rest of it ain’t that interesting. It’s just about the town
 an’ the mining of galena and that silver-bearing grey copper. But we 
know all about that, don’t we, old girl? Of course this is jest an 
advertisement for the town. I kind a wonder if anyone took any heed of 
it. Ya know what I mean, Frisco? Well, all I’s got to say is ‘The Animas
 Forks Pioneer’ was a heap more interesting to read.” Saying which he 
folded up the paper and stuffed it back in his pocket. “I’ve been 
hankerin’ for that old newspaper, but since the press closed down I’ve 
had to do with Silverton’s paper. But it jest isn’t the same, is it?”
    The slamming of a loose board somewhere in the mine was the answer. And then followed a long silence.
    At last the old man stood up stiffly and slowly began to make his 
way around the aged mine. He peered in at the empty windows, shook his 
head at the loose boards and sighed. Coming back to the rock, he resumed
 his seat where he sat motionless for some time. Finally he began to 
speak.
    “You remember the blizzard don’t you, Frisco? That was the winter of 1884 . . .”
    “I say, Joe, jest look at that snow come down, would ya?”
    “I know. Ain’t it somethin’ to see! Ya know, Will, I don’t even want
 to try to make it back to my room at the hotel in this. It’s hard to 
see even the boardin’ house.”
    Will took another look out the window. “Say! This ain’t jest a little snow storm. I’m thinking we’re in for a blizzard!”
    The two men looked at each other. They both knew the danger of 
trying to go anywhere in a storm like this. The mine was closed for the 
winter, but Will always kept a stash of food supplies there “jest in 
case” he always said. Well, that “jest in case” had finally arrived.
    “I reckon we might as well jest make ourselves at home an’ wait for the storm to blow over.”
    Joe nodded in agreement. “It’s a good thing neither of us is married, Will.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Then we’d have ta try ta get home or the women folk would be all 
upset.” He grinned. “I know as that’s the way it is with my brother.”
    The two men passed the rest of the day talking or just sitting and 
watching the swirling white clouds of snow out the windows. By bed time 
the storm showed no signs of abating, and the men rolled themselves up 
in blankets near the stove and slept. The next day and the next the 
storm raged. Drifts piled high against the sides of the mine covering up
 the lower windows. The men upstairs spent the time in telling stories 
and in game after game of checkers.
    On the sixth day, the entire lower part of the mine was covered and 
to look out the upper windows gave the appearance of being on the lower 
level.
    “My, this is one mean snow storm, I’m tellin’ you Joe!”
    “Don’t tell me,” Joe growled, “I know. An’ I don’t mind tellin’ you 
that this here business of doin’ nothing but playin’ checkers, in which 
you always win I might add, has about drove me crazy. Can’t ya think of 
anything else ta do?”
    Will looked thoughtful, his hand scratching his head as it did when 
he was thinking. Suddenly his eyes lit up. “How ‘bout we try digging a 
tunnel to the boardin’ house?”
    The suggestion met with Joe’s instant agreement, and the two 
descended the stairs to the strangely dark and cold first level. After 
lighting one of the lanterns that was used in the mine, Will cautiously 
pulled open the door. A solid wall of snow stood before them. Will 
reached out and took a handful. With a grin he turned to Joe.
    “This is the perfect kind of snow to make a tunnel in. See how well it packs?”
 
 
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