It happened again this evening. About half an hour before sunset, the clouds in the western sky parted while the brilliance of the sun enflamed their front edge and underbelly. Beneath the dark upper canopy the earth glowed warm and golden, a reflection of the fire overhead.
We've had unsettled weather the last six weeks, actually longer, I think. An elderly neighbor, grouchy with the pain of illness and old-age, told me certainly yesterday that we would have no summer this year at all. He meant it, but I kidded him back into a smile with, "Oh, Tony, it's only June. We'll have at least one sunny day before the snow flies and you know it."
Catching this special blessing of gold from heaven bathing the land, the houses, the trees will conclude the Things I get to do today. May we all rest well.