Blessed

It is a splendid, sunny, Sabbath here in the Dead Zone, the temperature is a few degrees south of freezing and I just returned from a constitutional. Reviving a tradition, I have elected to read an entire book today. The present fare will be Sexing The Cherry by Jeanette Winterson. I first heard of the novel and author last week when browsing the blogs of those us involved with the Gaddis Drinking junket of a few years past.

A friend of mine recently wrote and inquired about Rabelais. Such confidences in the world overjoy me. I am reminded of the Frenchman in Ms Winterson's tale of a giant and her son living in London shortly after The Restoration. There is a paragraph early in the work describing the fascination of a child being enveloped in a fog bank. This recalled the opaque clouds rolling in from the Atlantic at dusk and swallowing the Moroccan coast.