Fall squall.

It rained hard last night. Big fat drops of cold water slapped at our windows. Somehow the nasty weather outside makes it twice as nice to be inside where it's cozy and warm. Miles felt the same way, I think, because he jammed his little body into the curve of my back and wouldn't move all night long. It's amazing how much bed space a tiny dog can occupy.

This morning it's blustery and brisk, and the sky is that beautiful scrubbed blue that comes only after a storm. The air feels clean and dry, and my eyes keep wandering off my computer screen to look outside, hoping that one of our foxes will trot through our back yard. They're such beautiful little creatures, orange and fluffy, and so self-possessed. If I ever run into one, they always stop to look at me, and they wait until I'm the one who looks away first before they trot off to wherever they're going.

Colorado is such a change from New York City, where I used live. In New York, the scenery is people, and the foxes are shifty street types looking for an angle. New York made the nature lover in me turn inward, and the people lover turn outward, because you can find any kind of person, any kind of friend in New York. I sometimes miss the hurried streets, the yellow taxi cabs barreling down the avenues, the crowds of elegantly dressed businessmen and scruffy students. New York has a certain energy that you don't find anywhere else. While I love the peace and quiet of Colorado, I sometimes miss the vibrant New York life.

But not for long. Here in Colorado the sky stretches so high overhead, and the clouds shuffle past so quickly, I can retain that sense of movement that made New York seem so big and busy. And when a couple deer walk past my window, headed for my tomato plants, I feel I have all the excitement I need in life. New York added a little pepper to my blood, but Colorado is my indispensable salt.