Eight degrees in Alamosa is not that cold in the context of San Luis Valley winters. Our first winter here it got down to forty below, and our new Texas neighbors behind us noisily packed up and moved in the middle of that frosty night. But eight degrees in the wee morning hours felt plenty chilly as I stood in our backyard, clad in my robe and furry slippers, watching our newest adopted dog watch me. “C’mon, Ruffi. Do your business already.” Ruffino looked at me, then at the top …