White Dog awoke to the beginning of a new politic in America...and to the arrival of winter in Albuquerque. The low dark clouds veiling the mountains were powerfully moving when they parted to let the morning sun stream through and set everything aglow. Trees bucked and twisted trying to shake the leaves that just yesterday were still green but which overnight blazed crayon yellow and orange. Wind grabbed the fallen leaves flinging them like White Dog throws and shakes her stuffed toys. White Dog and I huddled together under a blanket and just absorbed the show outside of our window.