Shelter from the Storm
The trees were heaving. The earth was moving. The rain was raining; and wet. Very. We are melting into the sky and drifting into the sea. I so want my sky to the colour of an omphalodes and shaded with clouds too light to tether.
I retreated to HQ for an outdoors day indoors, my pakamac in shreds. It was no day for a Mimi Moke. I even resorted to listening to choice cuts from Trout Mask Replica. Which I’ve rarely done since seeing it performed on stage. It’s difficult to ‘curate’.
Rejoice - Mrs. McLeod and the Minister are back on speaking terms.