Chilly walk in the river valley

High today was 71° American and windy; ominous sounding thunder and rain now.

Great photos; of course you already knew that.

My Whitetail Fawn story ... well, one of them:
The year 1998 or thereabouts, I was by my lonesome self, running my band-saw-mill and sawing Yellow Poplar, stacking the various sizes of planks in separate stacks "on the stick".
I had a book of one-bys, about six feet wide and twelve feet long, about three feet high.
I stretched out and laid back on that book of lumber and took a nap.
I was awakened by a tremendous clatterment, but I lay still, playing Possum, peering out through the slits of my eyes.
A whitetail fawn of decent size had jumped up on my stack of planks and was standing astraddle of me, sniffing my face.
It must have been the Old Spice.
I almost blew my cover when he poked his nose in my ear, but I maintained my composure and kept still.
When he finished his investigation, he clatter-clatter-clattered to the edge of the lumber stack, hopped off on the ground, and disappeared into the fencerow.

Thanks Buckskin. Great story!