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It began one bright, blue, late summer morning in 2017, a year with a highwater level that was receding as fall approached. At breakfast, we noticed a ring-billed gull perched on a newly reappearing rock . . .
It was at the intermission, when I went out on the Playhouse deck, that I discovered considerable fog on the River. I could not see our lighthouse...
To know that a storm is coming is to apprehend mystery and fate... By bedtime, it was blowing a gale.