I am sitting here this morning in the coolness. It's the first day of autumn that I cannot do my quiet time outside. Oh - I could bundle up with gloves and long-johns added to my robe and blanket which is good for thinking and praying but not for journaling and typing. Instead I am in the middle place. Once the radiators are on I will wedge my feet between the grates and find a home there for the winter. But in this middle place I have crawled back in bed. I will not go out again until spring. And I will be in America.