We trained Lucy to close the door when she lets herself in from outside, but have not yet trained her to wipe her feet before entering. Last night when we were eating, Joe and I were quite convinced that this was a portrait of Yoda himself.
Muddy Reflections
The eels of his thoughts lurk in the murk,
clear as mud, dark as day.
Provoked, they'll bite you and hurt.
But.
He had a feeling yesterday at noon,
An angry pillar of fire that lit up the gloom,
warming him, moving him, making him loom.
A single clear thought: "I've been wronged!"
A magical thought that summons the heat.
A magical thought that directs him to speak
A magical thought that gives him the power
To crush the unjust into the mud.
(At least in his mind)
I wanted to do a mud photo but everything is still frozen.