Happiness is Sycamore trees and a brown dog

I could talk about the fire, which by now in my mind is blowing out of proportion as strongly as the winds on Saturday morning. I could talk about how beautiful the drive down to the cabin was, how settling I found the views. I could write about how deeply I sleep there, with the windows open and the cool air blowing across my face. So many options, but right now, I just want to post some pics of the one who undoubtedly had the best time at the cabin this weekend, the one who wore herself out playing so hard the past two days that she slept the entire drive home, and is snoring on the couch as I write this.