After a rolicking weekend in St. Paul, MN that included tearing around Minnehaha Park in a surrey, Kim Bitter and I loaded our gear into the Bittermobile and hydroplaned home in smacking rainstorms, with lightning cracking the sky in a spectacular, scary way. We arrived alive and I was soon warm at home, tucked next to Papa M. I glanced out the window into the stormy eve and saw a guy walking past our home in the rain with his enormous wolfhound, wearing nothing but a loincloth and a Viking helmet (the guy, not the dog). "Ah yes, "I thought, "It's summertime in Madison."
I always hate to leave St. Paul. I'm always happy to get home.