Well, the first day out was quite an event. It was a warm day in mid-June, and anybody who is half-way familiar with the less than predictable weather in Doughty Falls, Maine knows that a warm day in June is always a bad sign. Somewhere along the way God must have gotten his signals crossed and thought he was in Florida or something. This of course meant that in Florida they were probably in the midst of a blizzard of historical significance, which would probably destroy the entire year's orange crop so that people in Maine would have to pay two dollars apiece for oranges the next couple of years.
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