Our little Max, in the brief interval during which she deigned to wear her crown.
After three days of blizzard and three feet of snow, it (typically) turned summer again very abruptly on Halloween morning, and the world began to melt at a furious pace.
By noon we had all stripped to our shirtsleeves, and I'm willing to bet that the sluices and aqueducts of the city were raging with runoff.
We met up with Q's friend Esme, resplendent in the white owl costumer her aunt made for her.
Q didn't recognize her at first under the goggle-eyes and white feathers, but before long they were holding hands again amid the throngs of revelers on Tennyson.
Jena, maker of the wonderful owl costume (and the photographer who took that lovely photo in my previous post).
I got an armful of fuzzies.
Q and a matching dog in the last of the snow.
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