Falling from the Sky

High tide, storms and flooding in the night, and when I woke it was to lightning, wonderful thunder and hail so dramatic I lay on the sofa with my morning coffee and gave myself over to it. I now feel wonderfully post-operatic, in bright wet sunshine.

Of course I haven't done a lick of work.

I love that my little house is so sturdy in the face of all this drama. It endures without fuss, and when you think it started life as a hunting shack just flung up on pilings, it is nothing short of wonderful. There are houses that are tiresome hypochondriacs in comparison.

I have always thought that women have a relationship with where they live, Hestia, but maybe I have been ignorant about men. Nothing more fascinating and humbling than my own blind spots, I return to them like a dog to his sores.