The scene Sunday morning — after the St. Patrick's Day Parade in the pouring pouring rain the day before — was quite something. Town was deserted (as I headed down the hill for a cup of coffee at the end of Bannister's Wharf). Or still sleeping (like my dear darling daughter, home from college for spring break). But the evidence remained, everywhere. Colorful evidence ... if crumpled, broken, drowning. It struck me as funny ... if sad, as there's nothing more useless than a broken umbrella (that I can think of at this moment). Such variety amid the brokenness and stuff discarded, curbside and in grubby puddles. Ah, well. We'll get it all cleaned up again — not me, but the cleaning powers-that-be ... and the rain will stop, eventually, right??
