But sometimes they blow up quickly and leave just as fast. Like this one, this little cell that came out of nowhere and whacked Fawn Island with a single, wild squall-line gust— perhaps 70-80 mph. It blew the umbrella off the deck, which caught up in a jackpine before it could sail across the lake. It blew down a tall dead pine, the last one-foot top-knot hitting the first one inch of cabin roof, leaving an interesting dent but nothing else. A later circumambulation of the island may reveal other after-effects.

But for now we watch the little trouble-maker rumble down the lake toward Brule Narrows. It’s cooler now. A good thing for cutting up a fallen tree.

Sometimes storms announce themselves, and we should pay attention when they do. But sometimes… they just arrive.