The house held onto cool air. It was built from mud brick adobe and there was a cutout in the wall framed in plywood that revealed the home’s insides. The owners referred to it as a Truth Window.
The owners also assured us that the heat in the home, which was broken, would not be needed anyways.
That because we came from the northeast we should know, or be assured, that the colds don't compare.
They did compare, in that the temperature of the house didn’t break fifty degrees until about noon.
I started keeping the front door open, to let the warmer sun-soaked air waft inside. The dog preferred this. He could dig holes for himself to lay in against the house and watch for lizards.
The bees also preferred this.
There must have been a hive nearby, but I never found it. Just the piles of bees.
A few would come in at a time, congregate in the kitchen then rapidly lose body temperature and become sluggish. If I did not find them quickly the bees became completely unresponsive and I would scoop up their bodies with a piece of junk mail and lay them on the drier to thaw. This did not revive them and I accumulated an embarrassing stockpile of bees.
My workspace moved to the kitchen, so that I could catch them on their way in and still allow the house to warm. I kept a piece of dishcloth soaked in lavender oil in a sealed jar. When a group of them flew in and congregated on the tile I would remove the cloth and ‘walk them out’ by slowly stepping backwards toward the front door.