Last evening, that classic sign of celestial benevolence manifested, like a child's drawing of the shafts of light radiating from the setting sun.
According to my new cloud book, the phenomenon is called "crepuscular rays"; also "Jacob's ladder".
Earlier I had experienced the vivid sense of living in a McCahon painting, with the green hilly landscape of the peninsula cut up by the rectangular shapes of my window frames.
Next time I looked out it was a Turner painting inviting me to walk out into a squally stormy evening.
I keep telling people how windy and wild it almost always is here, with a storm factory churning out almost constant extremes of weather.
They say things like, Ooh how lucky you are, and, It sounds amazing!
I'm not sure, though, that this place is really fit for human habitation.