This morning I read (because I start teaching the novel tomorrow and, it turns out I haven't read this book before) the last 250 pages of Tim Winton's Cloudstreet. It makes the brain melt. It makes me want to look at the sky. It is tremendous.
After finishing, I took Hardie (surprised to have me home) for a walk under a sky so blue my breath broke midstream every time I looked at it.
It's 7.01 pm, and the kids are just down. I need to clean up and confront more reading (for I also teach Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible tomorrow).
But that sky was a relief, a wonder, a moment of the sublime, as blue as the lilacs struggling through the long grass next to our front steps.
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