So Ari, ever-dedicated disc golfer that he is, decided that despite the nasty weather and the radar indicating a storm with a pink and purple center was sweeping just north of us (Field of Dreams is just north of us) he must go disc golf. It is league night, after all, and one other dude was also going to go, so of course. Meanwhile, thin, cruel lightning bolts struck and dark, heavy clouds loomed as Ari shouted over the phone to another dedicated but let-us-say slightly more sensible disc golfer that "it's not even going to rain-check the radar!" as his buddy, who lives a block away (if we had blocks in rural northwest new jersey) told him that it was really quite nasty out and would not be joining him for a round. Scoffing, Ari tugged on socks and sneakers, pulling a baseball hat low over his brow. As a last ditch effort to keep him safe, I brought him outside to look at the black clouds which were moving fast and swirling much the way smoke from a fire does.
"That's a tornado cloud," he mused. "They do that before a funnel forms. But according to the radar, it's not going to rain," he yelled back as he hopped in his car and drove into the dark swirling cloud.
Not twenty minutes later, as I was safely inside but after the clouds has dissipated and the sun reemerged, I heard the crunching of rocks under car tires and stomping on the outdoor steps. I was agape to see Ari standing in the doorway, proclaiming his drive to be the craziest he's ever taken. Not long after leaving (less than 5-minutes-not-long) it was raining on Valley Road, and from there it just got worse. Tree branches and leaves covered the ensuing roads, rivers overflowed onto their banks, whole trees were felled, power lines snaked through the streets. Sounds like the tornado he was talking about.
Anyhow, we didn't get one drop of rain, which we really could have used. And it's a bit cooler, but no less swampy than it was before.
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