We’re back to the grey gloom. It’s Saturday, so of course, the clouds are very slow to burn off, and the forecast says that there will be rain this weekend. Actually, we got a little bit of rain last night, along with a few rumbles of thunder. Amazing thing about this little piece of Oregon . . . for as much rain as we get, we rarely have thunderstorms in this southern end of the Willamette Valley. I do love a good thunderstorm. Before moving to Oregon, I lived in Geneva, New York for seven years. Right at the northern tip of the longest of the Finger Lakes, it was prime mecca for summer thunderstorms. Almost one every evening. While still in school at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, I had a job cleaning the glassware in the bio-chem labs in the science building. I also bred fruit flies after knocking them out with ether and lifting their skirts to see what sex they were, but we’ll try to keep things rated PG here today. Summers in upstate New York are swelteringly hot and humid. Each evening, right around five o’clock when I would be leaving work, the atmosphere would broil up a wicked thunderstorm. Bolts of lightening could be seen coming down the street and I would run home (only a few blocks, as I lived above the Twin Oaks Bar and Grill) to beat the huge drops of rain before they could catch and soak me. I miss the excitement of those rumbles, the intense flashes of light. In those days and in that climate it seemed we never heard of lightning starting forest fires. I guess I should be thankful for the lack of storms here, but I do miss them. Oh, and I miss the lightning bugs too.