This week, I managed to get away.

Camping in Pacheedaht country in the healing rain, the whole world lush and green, quarreling ravens, a herd of elk on a saltmarsh, the roaring sea and a crackling campfire and then my daughter Zoe reading me to sleep from The Dalkey Archive, all about as close to paradise as it is possible to get in this quarter of the planet and with someone as close to the seraphim as I have ever known, plus these trees.