Grace is one moment leading to the next.

I saw a band of quartz crystal running through the sky, and its smoky depths were the morning overcast that lingered in the east.

We've grown our produce so unnaturally large, for volume, for profit ratios, for the sheer love of size, that peaches collapse under their own weight before they're fully ripe.


Life's nice. Life's so nice that sometimes it makes me feel silly, like it's so nice that I can't really understand at all how nice it is, and that makes me a sort of figure of silliness, a blessed clown who rides around on his silly unicycle balancing preposterous items on his red clown-nose, and in the shadows beyond the spotlight his watering cross-eyed gaze vaguely intuits that he's stumbled into an unlikely paradise.

It's that time of day when the low-hanging sun seems to hide behind objects on the horizon and the sterling light in the sky springs out from everywhere and nowhere all at once.