We’re on vacation in Prince Edward Island and after a hell of a push getting here (me moving the rest of my stuff out of my old apartment and a minute angry freak-out at the discoveries of changes my husband had made in the month that I’d moved and all that cliched stuff) and then the ten hour drive over two days to get here to the side, it’s just…
- stars and more stars at night
- the grey-blue ocean sussurating away practically off our front deck just under the red, red, red stony cliff 10 meters away
- even my curmudgeonly father (I get it from somewhere) exclaiming like the city folk that he is about cows! sheep! horses! and pointing out how almost every other road, rick, pond, village and rill is named after one side of his family or the other, which is of course how we came here in the first place
- book count, 1 down (The Art of Reading Poetry, Harold Bloom) down, lots to go.