It's looking pretty silver and frosted outside the door this morning. At six the thermometer read sixteen, which means: winter. Which will okay with me if Obama wins (which I think he will!), and not if he does not. If he does not win it will take some serious linguistic acrobatics to convince myself that all is okay in the world and that we have what it takes to face this long winter. But why go there now (when I'm sure, in my heart of hearts, the right man will win)? All I can say is this: if the wrong man wins, and you are spinning in a vortex of disgust and despair, go get yourself the most recent copy of The Sun. It has three things in it you should read: an interview with Parker J. Palmer on politics, faith and what we can learn by listening to each other; an essay by Gillian Kendal on first loves; and an amazing story by my dear friend Miciah Bay Gualt. Remember that story I raved about a month ago? Well this is the one! And you can now all read it and feel its beauty and sing its praises on your own. And, if the worse-case scenario unfolds, feel a little warmth still emanating from the silver-brushed world.