Sometimes when the clouds go on vacation and the sun glows for squinting, the sky becomes a big, bulging dome of ice cream. Not like the sunrise kind, which promises spicy chunks of peachy charcoal and mangonada; nor yet the sticky sunset of sweet turmeric and studded strawberry. No, this sky is an energetic, milky, fruity, summer-day flavor: blueberry earl grey, perhaps, or taro-pine with a hint of lemon vanilla. Now take your putty knife and spread it flat against the North Pole, then scoop it up and put it in a mountain-cone fringed with silver ice. Whatever you do, just serve it fresh and cold, garnished with stardust, clouds of marshmallow, and a sprig of sunbeam. Ice cream is a great way to win favor among the angels, you know.