Hello. this is the Daily Bone and I'm your endearing doggie commentator Chester L. W. Spaniel.
Today the weather changed almost every hour. I'm going to just show you pictures that were taken throughout the day and you can see for yourself. They are in chronological order.
Hi. This is The Daily Bone and we're your doggie hosts Joseph (Joey dog) Spaniel
and Chester L. W. Spaniel.
Ghostwriter has to go to work soon, so we're just doing a quick post today.
We were surprised to get so much snow yesterday morning. It's almost all gone today. But we took a look back at our photo archives from the date March 30, 2014. As you can see in the next three pictures, we had even more snow then.
Hi everyone. This is the Daily Bone and I'm your excited doggie reporter Chester L. W. Spaniel.
Wow! This is amazing! We totally skipped summer and autumn and went back to winter! It's a chilly 18ยบ outside, and look at all the snow! There must be a time warp phenomenon going on.
Maybe one of those mysterious worm holes my esteemed colleague Special Agent Joseph (Joey dog) Spaniel has been investigating sucked us in and we went back in time. Or forward.
Here's Joey going out on a reconnaissance mission. He says he will have a full report on the alien worm holes within a few days. Sounds like another case for the X-Piles!
Good evening friends and fans. This is The Daily Bone and I'm your hopeful doggie commentator Chester L. W. Spaniel.
As you can see, I have a tennis ball. I am also standing at the top of the stairs.
I am going to set it down and see what it does.
Hmmmm. It rolled down to the top step. I bet if I bark enough, eventually the tennis ball will come back to me. I shall now begin.
Bark bark bark bark bark bark!
Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark!
Bark bark bark bark bark!
Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark!
Hey! Where'd it go?
Um, ghostwriter, you're supposed to pick it up and throw it to me, not put it into my squeaky toy storage facility! Well, no matter. I have another tennis ball in the room back here.
Hello ladies and gentlemen, doggies and kitties. This is The Daily Bone and I’m your investigative doggie reporter Special Agent Chester L. W. Spaniel.
I have a serious subject to discuss today. That is the fate of our snow piles. It seems they are fast becoming … X-Piles.
For example this is all that remains of the majestic mountain Dad made out of almost three months worth of snow on the driveway.
Behold, it is a work of art!
Remember these mounds of wonderful, fluffy, white snow?
As demonstrated by my esteemed colleague Special Agent Joseph (Joey dog) Spaniel, there is nothing left but some sad puddles, and soggy, dead grass.
And here's another mystery. We observed that after certain snow piles melted, a strange, fibrous white substance remained on the grass. Ghostwriter called it snow mold. That sounds pretty unearthly to me! We’ve never seen that before. This will warrant some serious investigation!
Meanwhile, ghostwriter ran a few errands, then drove around a few local parking lots to check on the status of the larger snow mountain ranges.
Here is Mount Uno. Wow, it’s looking kind of dirty and dismal.
Mighty Taco Mountain is only a shadow of its former self. As you can see, a fossilized shopping cart is emerging from the top.
Who knows what else might be under there? Perhaps a Mini Cooper?
Here’s another forlorn cart melting out of the icy grip of the Southtowne Hills. Where did it come from?
The Marketplace Mountain Range is revealing its hidden crab apple trees.
It all looked pretty dire and depressing, not to mention dull and decrepit! Finally, she checked out the giant Macy's Mountain Range. Here she was met by some seagulls who put on an impromptu song and dance routine.
Take a bow, fellows! Ghostwriter didn’t have any food to give them. I hope they’re not angry.
This may be a diversionary tactic, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have an alien spaceship buried under there. Just wait till that behemoth melts down into an X-Pile! An alien autopsy just might be in order then. No more song and dance for you my fine feathery friends! The truth is out there. (Or in there, in this case.)
All the while, the mysterious shoveler stands, silent and inert.
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