|Redneck yacht club|
|The flingage factor is high with snowshoes|
Today it was back to shorts and a t-shirt as I ran a quick out-and-back in the disappearing slush. The only sounds were the plash of snow melting and the distant buzz of sawyers amassing their winter reserves. Along with the smell of baking pine needles and the crunch of bike tires on decomposed granite, the ethereal combination of snow and warm sunshine is a California feeling that will linger long after I leave.