It was a reasonably nice day, with temperatures in the 40s and very little wind. I probably should have gone to the dump, but, instead, I felt physically ambitious and decided that I'd go for broke and try for the longest trek since the surgery. I felt up to the task—it was only an additional mile from what I'd been doing—and if I walked the hills the right way, I liked my odds of success. If the steep was too much, I promised my wife that I'd just turn around and come home. Working the inclines on diagonals, back and forth rather than straight up, was my old mountain climbing strategy, and, of course, it worked on the back roads just as well. The extra distance was fine by me, and when I'd made it to the top of the ridge, I took a little time to observe the natural world. I wasn't the only one out for a stroll on this less-than-winter afternoon. Inching along—actually, millimetering along—on the packed gravel was a Woolly Bear caterpillar. These fabled winter weather prophets survive frigid temperatures by making their own antifreeze, but with the temperature well above freezing, this handsome insect had come out of its pickled state to do some exploring. It had more black than brown, which is said to mean more cold than warmth during the winter. We shall see.