Most passengers were hot.
Rapidly moving clouds foretold the dramatic change in weather that led to a literal weekend wash-out.
Within 90 minutes the beach looked like this.
Early illumination of houses preceded Thursday evening's downpour.
The sun's absence for the next several days left plenty of time for fussing, eating, drinking and visiting.
Tommy tried on his separates for Saturday night's Spartacus party at the Belvedere. He found the steel helmet and the harness (made to size in Pakistan) on Amazon for less than $225. Watch out Leather Man!
Vita's teeth chattered in Sunday's 60 degree weather even with the heat going full blast. Randy lent her his orange "Beast," a blanket he's dragged from house to house because of its enveloping warmth.
After Randy and Thom left, steady wind and rain kept me in the house until late Tuesday morning when the sun finally burned through the fog. A fledgling didn't survive the storm.
Unlike this insect.
Wet weather had refreshed some of the houses and flora.
But the reeds on Tuna Walk looked beaten.
Some wag hung an age-of-PrEP warning in the Meatrack.
Fog enveloped the Great South Bay and the beach by the time I reached the Grove.
The Grove prioritizes anatomical over political correctness.
Trash picking peaks at the beginning and the end of each season.
A walk on the beach didn't inspire confidence about the encroaching surf despite the Sisyphean efforts of some homeowners to elevate and re-position their homes.
The heavy rain did a number on the parking lot at Sayville Ferry, too.
Nine down, one more to go at the end of September before our half-share era ends.
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