I can't wait for summer to be over. What with the heat rash, the poison ivy I keep getting (from Stella, I think, by way of her romps in the underbrush), the random mosquito bites, and (I think) hives around my waist, my skin looks like a red-and-white map of the Pacific Ocean. I'm about ready to claw it all off.
And speaking of the Pacific Ocean, I'm finally reading The Island of the Colour-Blind and Cycad Island by Oliver Sacks, the book miketroll was nice enough to send to me. Here are a couple of bits I enjoyed in the first chapter. The first comes from Sacks's journal while flying over the Pacific:
No ships, no planes, no land, no boundaries, nothing—only the limitless blue of sky and ocean, fusing at times into a single blue bowl. This featureless, cloudless vastness is a great relief, and reverie-inducing—but, like sensory deprivation, somewhat terrifying, too. The Vast thrills, as well as terrifies—it was well called by Kant "the terrifying Sublime".And then there's this, from which I learned a new word, "eluted", which is used just beautifully here:
As we landed, and decamped from the plane, we were enveloped in a huge humid warmth and the heavy scent of frangipani. This, I think, was the first sensation for us all, the smell of a tropical night, the scents of the day eluted by the cooling air—and then, above us, incredibly clear, the great canopy of the Milky Way.