We are here in Northern Michigan after fleeing a rainstorm that arrived hours early, chasing us out of Turtle Lake Resort. This morning, we’re in a family campground and I suspect from the sound on the roof of the tent, that the Michigan forecast is wrong again. The rain due at 2pm is apparently arriving at 6:30am.
I whisper, “It might just blow over. It’s not due ‘till this afternoon.” I’m thinking from under my comfy sleeping quilt cuddled with DF. I’m tired and I want to sleep in. That sound on the tent is a drizzle, but we’ve also heard that before in Ohio and Northern Vermont. We certainly want to avoid a wet tent to pack into the tightly crammed trunk, soaking everything and maybe creating mold.
We get out and quickly, perform our well-practiced routine, tearing the camp down safely and tucking it away. All during the process, the rain intensifies. We’ll be leaving for Lake Shelbyville a little earlier than planned.