Tonight, just rain, and rain, and rain, and lightning. And rain. And somehow, that drumming and drubbing is exactly what's meant to be here. The day was long and mighty, the weather swift and flighty. My taste for rhyme is, apparently, unslakeable, unslackening, unstoppable even at the end of a pounding, pressing day. Heading from a happily abortive attempt to get dinner in a dining hall, over to a happily successful dinner somewhere finer than a dining hall, I checked on the coneflowers but could not take their pictures--too much speed, too much swiftness in our passage through town. But pictures of yesterday's vanguard will let you know how things are coming along. Tonight's rain will, I suspect, bring these even closer to their final selves.