Rain

Rain in Ithaca takes itself very seriously. It comes out of no where, pours and storms and torrents and makes small lakes out of every parking lot for 20 minutes and then, satisfied, goes on it's way. This weekend Wuggy Norple was saddened when a sudden thunder storm pulled him out of Cayuga Lake where we were splashing at Boog's Gramma's house. Within minutes of getting inside, we saw more lightening through those lake view windows than I've ever seen in one storm. We drove home less than half and hour later in relative dryness, and it seemed like every lawn had it's own downed tree. It took a while for the storm to make it down the lake to our house, but the next night we got our own whipping winds and sheets and buckets and loud crashing thunder, which we watched from our front porch as the power went out all down our side of six-mile creek. Adventure Gramma took us on an expotition to follow the firetrucks to the source of our trouble, and soon we saw the downed tree making a triangle out of a wire that wanted to be a line. The firetruck and NYSEG truck checked it out briefly and drove away- I guess it was a busy night for those guys. We hoofed back to the porch, and Papercup Mixmaster played us some tunes on the acoustic.