And my best ol' pal is stuck dead in the middle of it.
When I was a kid it was an easy way to spot Yankees. In the summer, thunderstorms in the middle of the night scared the Bejesus out of them. It hasn't got hot enough for heat lightning yet, so it had to be a final test. In the days of horse and mule riding Methodist preacher's, straight out of the west of England, they swore they'd been mounted by Satan himself when they got to a town. When the winds started to blow hard ,possums, raccoons, and bobcats would drop and attach themselves to anything below them that looked solid and sturdy. It was always a manifestion of Satan or Baptists to those Methodists.