The rain came this afternoon with comfortingly distant rumbles of thunder and a fresh, steady pouring that made it easy to drift off into a nap over my book, a Chinoa Achebe novel borrowed from Dylan. Drifting, I thought of the resurrection ferns coming back to green from their dry brown dustiness, and then was lost to thought. The rain continued.
I worked on a blog post; Rodney watched a race on television. It was preceded by a prayer, offered by a Christian minister with a fervor that astonished us both. We looked at each other and recalled moments from childhood. And those thoughts bring me to Pablo Notes. Pablo's been on a theme of childhood and other recollections associated with a collection of Bibles he's amassed. There's no religious screed here, no uncomfortable opinionating, no ranting of any kind: there is only the usual excellent writing Pablo offers, his view of youth in the Bible belt wry and as refreshing to me as a summer afternoon gin and tonic. With lime. It's writing for Writers and Readers. And the rain continues.