It is getting cold on the mountain. The windows are white every morning. When I wake up, I look at the window hoping for blue skies and sneeze on cue when my eyes see all white, so I complain to sleepy Emily who says that we live in heaven and her breath is so bad in the morning so I snuggle closer and enjoy her sleep hot body that can make even sinusitis ok and I play with her nipples to wake her more and nuzzle her neck until I sneeze again and have to complain and dart across the cold tile floor into the bathroom to hork and squeeze luke warm salt water into my head. It is getting cold but it is still just after October. Up where we are there is actual frost in February. The children will collect it and make tiny snowballs that melt before they can be thrown. On the mountain there is wheat that stands taller than a person and caterpillars that make cocoons from peeled bark and dangle from power lines on silk strings. If you are careful for snakes you can open bushes and find golden lady bugs and electric green beetles. My camera has captured so many swallow tailed butterflies that now I can take the time to just watch and enjoy the pulsing proboscis and the way the moths rub their wings back and forth to make a helmet that protects them from whatever would eat a moth but somehow can't penetrate a thin wing helmet. It is getting cold and there are days into days of rain which I must drive through early on my motorcycle. I arrive at work very wet and congested and smile to keep up appearances. Why complain about what everyone suffers through. It is getting cold but I am so happy these days. I hope it all lasts and lasts.