This column with its report on the Old Men of the Mountain starts out like many conversations — with the weather. To keep up that tradition, today’s column will be no different.

Once long ago, when this planet was first being formed, three old guys were pushed out of the cave so they would leave the ladies alone.

We are already into November and the older the Old Men of the Mountain get, the faster the time goes. For time itself, yet for things not exactly related to time, they seem to take forever.

On a really miserable early Tuesday morning, Oct.

At Tuesday’s breakfast on Oct.

On Oct. 12, The Old Men of the Mountain met at the Your Way Café in Schoharie. Most know of the fire that happened last week in the village in which a lady died in the blaze.

The sun is rising later and later, daylight is beginning to peek through around 7 a.m. now.

On Sept. 28, this scribe was not in attendance at the weekly Tuesday breakfast. A more important task was in order and this scribe had an official excuse.

This scribe is royally ticked off at this scribe. To explain that sentence, this is the second time I have typed this.

Bread is like the sun: It rises in the yeast and sets in the waist.