How we crave that clear, blue sky after what sometimes seems like an eternity of clouds here in the dead of the Wisconsin winter.  Moods brighten as, finally, the awaited sun brushes our winter pines a radiant green, sumac tops flame up and the alfalfa stubble in the field down the road turns from dull tan to flashing gold above the snow.  Most of us are creatures of the day, content and absorbed in life under our heavenly canopy.  But lately I've begun to sense a seductive, day-sky deception afoot here that obscures our fragile reality and in so doing may lead to our undoing.  Does not the outright joy of a bluebird sky festooned with billowing ...