Sitting beneath the flickering light of the propane lantern while the weatherport creaks in the wind like a ship on high seas, we huddle around the radio, listening eagerly for the weather report, and the report is always the same: highs in the upper 20's, chance of rain, flurries and fog, wind out of the northeast at 15 to 20 miles per hour.
Imagine a thunderstorm, big dollops of rain, a flurry of snow.
But a flurry of wickets either side of a rain delay settled things as England bowled out the tourists for 172 to claim a 114-run Duckworth-Lewis win.
A flicker is a flash, a flurry.
It rained during the trip, and rained a rained.
The day broke cold and sunny, but by 8 a.m. clouds had quickly lowered, threatening to spit rain or flurries on the smattering of anglers casting into the chilly Ramapo River, which ran clear and cold, but surprisingly fishable.
Most days were overcast with light rain or flurries, and toward the end of our visit we awakened to behold a glorious winter scene: a smooth, dark lake surrounded by snow-laden conifers mingled with the muted yellows and reds of the hardwood leaves that were still aloft, and in the distance to the northwest, Mount Katahdin covered with snow.
In the middle of Cairo, the weather treated people to day-long rain and flurries of hail stones, and the streets turned into mush and puddles – in the posh Garden City, cars navigated through inches-deep rivers, as streets next to the Nile River flooded in Zamalek, a high-end neighbourhood in the middle of the city. .
