An unexpected rainstorm after tepid temperatures and windless conditions. Radar indicated the the system to go north of us, but we are in its southern reaches, thunder a way off heralded its approach. The sky began filling with dark clouds; temperatures dropping slightly providing a welcome coolness on the skin. Treetops fluttered. I carried in our plastic picnic table, partially folding it to fit off the aisle in our little porch. Grandson wanted to wait out the rain on his bicycle but as it began to fall more rapidly, Grandma told him to come indoors and bring the bike with him, and so the rain fell straight down, harder, hard enough to fill the gutter over the door and cascade out its open end and plunge splattering into the grass below, its cadence wavering as the rain slowed, then fell hard again. Mists arose in the corral. The drips spattered from the roof edge one by one. The leaves hissed. Cars out on the county road could be heard faraway as the storm quietly moved eastward ... and blue patches of sky could be seen again.
Jerry Solom, August 24, 1945 -- July 23, 2019 This is a random image memorial post about my late friend, who died a year ago. I wrote a memoir/tribute to him in the Wannaskan Almanac on July 23, 2020. Here's the link to that: http://wannaskanalmanac.blogspot.com/2020/07/thursday-july-23-2020.html Me and Jerry with Marion in background in Stonington, Maine in 2015 prior to setting sail to Hull, MA. This is an excerpt from the story "A Louisiana Ruse" by Steven G. Reynolds Published in 2000 in THE RAVEN: Northwest Minnesota's Original Art, History & Humor Journal This describes the end of a 43-hour bus ride we took from Fargo, North Dakota to Slidell, Louisiana, where Jerry's boat was in dock prior to his voyage to Norway in 2000. I was there as part of the maintenance crew, accompanying Jerry, his son Terry Solom of Minneapolis, and their fr...
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