It's winter time. There's no way to deny saying that, unfortunately.

The horses have their winter coats. My horse is darker and redder than ever, and is a fuzzy unrecognizable beast who still enjoys her romp in the field, even as the grass starts to yellow. I don't mind the changing seasons. I think that if one season remained for too long, I would get sick of it. I would decide that it had officially overstayed its welcome and was now simply a rude guest. But seasons aren't offended when you tell them that they are being rude. Instead, they wrap their arms tight around you and squeeze until you find them beautiful once more. Only then do they leave you. Nasty visitors, those seasons.

This morning I stepped out of my house and my breath rose in mist before me. It filled me with excitement, but also sadness because the trees don't like cold, and I like trees.

Peace.

P.S. Reg has a new song. What more could I ask for?