The sky has been amazing the past several days. All pinks and oranges. Colors that really change the look of the entire landscape and make you want to question the appearance of everything. I have to imagine that in more pre-historic times, Dawn and Dusk were seen as times of altering or changing or transformation or metamorphosis or something. Maybe not. Maybe I am reading too much into it.

The night sky has been spectacular, as well. Now that it is Summer, the Milky Way spans overhead like a bridge. It is a brilliant and smudgy smear across the top of the celestial zenith. I have only had the telescope out a few times, but the gazing has been brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Venus shines like a small moon. I make time by it as I would by the Big Dipper. It is beautiful clockwork for now.

I am slowly trying to get myself writing again. Lurching. Glacially. It feels like I am re-carving the landscape and making deposits of soil and rock. You know, like a continental glacier. Carving out a Great Lake or five. Or six if you count lonely Lake Champlain. Which I don't, but we should at least consider it. It is a beautiful lake and I really haven't seen it since I was a kid and my father took me to Fort Ticonderoga...one of the most militarily useless forts ever constructed. Just ask Ethan Allen. Anyway...yeah. I am trying to get myself writing.