Our version of autumn weather has hit Texas with the usual bluster of cold winds that whip around fallen, yellow-red leaves of the oak and cottonwood trees outside.   It is our kind of cold, a great deal milder than what you might expect to find in northern Maine, or even Illinois at this time of year.   Still, as per usual, it is greeted with the usual rush of people rushing to the store to purchase bundles of firewood, chili meat, and to stock up on things like soup and hot chocolate.

I prefer to drink coffee, of course, but that’s available year ’round - it only tastes better now.  Coffee taste is directly impacted by the cold weather outside, I would tell you in all seriousness.  Something about it makes the flavor bloom inside your mouth now, rather than slash against your tongue with gauche, awkward forwardness.

It’s always been my favorite time of year.  I like the cool weather and it often sends me outside, newly filled with coffee and a power bar, to run.  I just purchased two new sets of running shoes in anticipation of the heart-tuning that will be on-going until this weather bleeds into ice.  I don’t particularly like busting my ass on the cement during my 4 am runs.

Still with all my activities, with my career, which refuses to be culled back like any good job would allow in moderation, with all of my friends who give me no rest from excited news and eager events, I like to be inside and quiet as well.  N, who doesn’t favor the cold, or the germs which always seem to find her this time of year, and memorably found me on one not-so-long-ago trip to Europe, prefers to stay inside, her feet wrapped up in 2 or 3 pairs of my socks.

I had plans today, but I can’t remember what they were.  I did the grocery shopping with her, but beyond that, we didn’t leave the house.  She cooked.  I cleaned.  The entire day was spent with the fireplace going for the first time this season, but with the curtains opened out onto the deck and patio, beyond to the many trees and finally to the lake which churned about like a restless teenager looking for trouble.

Everyone else was gone.  My neighbors, which is such a casual term for people who I’d die for, were out and doing whatever makes them happy.  We moved the fire to the bedroom early this evening, and spent it in the cozy confines of the master suite, which caters to my somewhat finicky tastes in terms of casual comfort.

I am a snob when it comes to my personal space.  Clothing isn’t my vice, but the two rooms where I reside most?  Untouchable.

They are now cast in golden and red hues to match, quite incidentally, with the color scheme mother nature has dictated outside my window.  N is curled up with her book, her slick black hair pulled back into a messy knot, her feet ever wrapped in my ‘warmer’ socks, and her body covered head to toe with clothing.

I sit beside her and type this missive, ear buds firmly in place.  It is my whisper into your ear.  It is what came out of me when I sat down in this environment to write.  I believe that is why blogging is so intimate.  I allow you into my head and give you my vision.

It is also why it is so distant, because when my voice ends, so to does the image….

Good night.