At home in Maine on family business all week, I was greeted Monday with a nice storm over Grand Falls Flowage in Princeton, my hometown. My parents, brother and I were out for a W-A-L-K when this gust front rolled swiftly over the lake, bringing a short downpour and a period of strong straight-line wind. These storms seem to follow me; it's not quite the storm season yet in Florida.
It's easy to see the defined leading edge of this storm as it makes its way over the lake that I fished on nearly every day during my childhood summers.
A heavy rain core is clearly visible across the "back bay," as my family called it during my early days. My childhood home, where my parents still live, is located on the end of a half-mile peninsula on the lake. This is a backyard of sorts, behind the house.
Out in front again, in the main portion of the lake, rain falls over the "downtown" area of Princeton, if there is such a thing. It's a town of about 800 people, making it one of the more populous municipalities in eastern Washington County, the "Sunrise County" -- so named because it is the first place in the lower 48 to receive sunlight each morning.
More dark clouds as the rain continues to fall.
Later on Monday, the day I flew in to Maine, the sky cleared. As the sun set, the bottoms of the these lingering dark clouds were "oranged-up," as I like to say.
A close-up of the clouds. The "family business" I referred to, by the way, was the death of my courageous grandmother, who miraculously survived a horrific car accident 47 years ago, in which all of her family of six were involved. She got the worst of it: Her husband was told she would never eat by herself, walk or talk again. Yet, she did. She learned to walk and talk again. She learned to write with her left hand. And she lived a full life, raising four children, including a son who suddenly died two months ago. It has been a rough spring for the family, but we're a resilient bunch, as evidenced by my grandmother.
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