I woke up this morning after a wild night of dreaming, thinking of a line from a book that I can't quite get right. I think I'm mixing two books together--A Wrinkle in Time and The Dark is Rising, maybe. The general sense is of dawn after a stormy night, and the line I'm thinking of is something like, "Tonight has been [something or other] and tomorrow will be beyond imagining." It's been a long time since I've read either book, obviously.

Our friends Kent and Lydia are out of town, so I've staying at their place. The phone rang last night at about 2:30, and I answered it out of a dead sleep to hear the Keelhauler telling me that the weather was going to get very heavy. It took me a moment to remember where I was, or where he was. He was calling from the ship, up near Point Conception, where he could see the storm advancing, and described the lightning show at the Channel Islands. Lightning is a rare occurrence here. "They're forecasting winds up to 60 knots," he added, and asked me to check on the boat the next morning.

As he spoke, I heard the wind suddenly pick up and begin to howl. I wondered whether it would have been enough to wake me on its own. Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light came through the blinds, and the Keelhauler and I both laughed, startled. "Did you see that one?" he asked me. Seconds later, the thunder cracked and rumbled, and I laughed nervously.

I hung up the phone feeling comfortable despite the storm, happy in the idea that I had my own personal weather service on watch. I pictured the Keelhauler's vantage point at Cojo Anchorage, watching the clouds roll through, and felt grateful for the reminder that the world can at times feel comfortingly small.

P.S.

Here is my survey, if you're feeling listless on this Sunday morning.

Star of the day. . .Tara McManus