It was great to see so many old friends and new neighbors at the season-opening party on the Linekin Heights Green last Saturday! It would appear from the turnout that everyone is making up for last year’s lost time. That’s certainly true in our case; the reservation desk at the Hotel Schmidt–Smith Summer Resort and Conference Center has not only inked a full slate of bookings for the current season, but most of 2020’s no-shows are redeeming their rain checks. We’re all out of mints for the pillows, and we foresee a run on both bed sheets and dryer sheets. . .

Speaking of rain checks, or perhaps checking the rain, Tropical Storm Elsa dumped four-and-a-quarter inches in our back yard, according to the Highly Scientific Rain Gauge nailed to a corner post on our deck. That’s rather a lot, even for folks who are used to experiencing Weather with a capital “wuh.” And we’re from southern California, where rain is a mythical substance rumored to burn the flesh of sinners, and any measurable precipitation merits saturation coverage that floods the airwaves with ominous logos and even more ominous theme music. You’d think it was an earthquake or something.

Denied access to “Stormwatch 2021: Live Team Coverage!” on the cable hookup we don’t have, the menfolk huddled up around a laptop on the dining-room table to follow the action on the Weather Underground’s Wundermap. We toggled between the rain gauges, the Doppler radar, and the wind field overlays as Elsa churned across Long Island and Cape Cod before heading straight up the Gulf of Maine. The infinitely Zoom-able Wundermap regrettably has no scale, but at closest approach Elsa’s eye passed a mere two knuckles southeast of Spruce Point.

Meanwhile, the ladies lounged on the living-room sofa, watching the real thing through our picture window. It was quite the show until the storm’s height, when the wind drove the rain horizontally with such fury that the window sheeted over as if we were in a car wash. This was also when we discovered several places where last year’s caulking didn’t take, and a general scramble for beach towels and Tupperware ensued. On the bright side, it brought some perspective to the annoying (and so-far untraceable!) puddle under the fridge where the feed to the ice maker appears to be leaking. So there’s that . . .

We trust that the rest of you have fared no worse. And now that the sun’s out, the laundry’s done, and the dishwasher's run, let’s get back to the fun!