I sit on a cliff face. It is late October and though brown leaves remain, snow has already come and gone. Two hundred feet below the creek flow small and thin, yet still noisy. In a surprise I find cacti in 35 degree weather, tucked between the cliff rocks. Though misplaced in my, they are at home, content to absorb a weak sun and resist a breezy wind. Like sheep in a storm, the cacti huddle together. My lack of knowledge once again brings a smile to my face. For what I do not know, I cannot expect, and thus will not presume. And when what I see confounds, I smile, recognizing my incompleteness.