A chalkboard on the front porch of the general store in the small Adirondack hamlet that our cabin is loosely associated with had the forecast written neatly above the morning’s coffee special - Blue-bird through Thursday - followed by a smiley face and the morning’s coffee special, Dark Mountain Morning.
And so it was to our surprise after walking back across the footbridge and following the quiet road a quarter-mile to the cabin with our coffees and the kids inhaling homemade blueberry muffins that the clouds gathered and unrolled over the lake. A wide gray west-bound expanse of rain on the heels of a wind ushering a 10-degree temperature drop.
It was on us before we could grab the towels drying on the line. Before we could turn the canoes over and rescue tackle-boxes and rods and lifejackets from the dock. Before we could close cabin windows and keep the soaking mist off the curtains, comforter on our bed and linoleum floor in the kitchen.
In a mad, laughing rush though we did flip the canoes, rescue tackle and close windows, using the somewhat damp towels to sop-up the linoleum.
We found dry, warm clothes, chairs on the screened porch and watched the storm wear itself out while the kids gabbled like ducks outside under the run-off from the roof.
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