July 30
A quick guide to the rain in Pittsburgh:
If it starts to sprinkle, that's fair warning. You have approximately ten minutes to take cover before the deluge. It's never the case that it sprinkles and then stops. If it's sprinkling, you're about to get soaked. (I've been caught in more apocalyptic downpours this summer than you would think possible.)
The rain will rain all day once it starts. It's like a tap stuck in the "on" position. There's no half-sunny, half-rainy day. If it's raining, it will stay that way, perhaps for a week.
Always always always take your umbrella with you, even if you think you don't need it. I have a little tiny one that fits into my purse. I never leave home without it.
Yesterday evening after work I was walking to the bus stop through a torrential downpour (under my teensy umbrella, which I had prudently brought with me.) At the corner was a guy with a tremendous umbrella--you could have parked a car under the thing. Then three sopping wet girls without umbrellas came to the corner. He took one look at them and raised the umbrella so they could take cover.
Here's a bird pretending to be Mondrian:
A sign on an office at work:
And finally, I'll have only spotty internet access until Sunday evening, so here's a little something in honor of my last full day in Pittsburgh. I've had a lovely time, and I'll miss it, but I'm ready to go home now.
Love,
Sarah
If it starts to sprinkle, that's fair warning. You have approximately ten minutes to take cover before the deluge. It's never the case that it sprinkles and then stops. If it's sprinkling, you're about to get soaked. (I've been caught in more apocalyptic downpours this summer than you would think possible.)
The rain will rain all day once it starts. It's like a tap stuck in the "on" position. There's no half-sunny, half-rainy day. If it's raining, it will stay that way, perhaps for a week.
Always always always take your umbrella with you, even if you think you don't need it. I have a little tiny one that fits into my purse. I never leave home without it.
Yesterday evening after work I was walking to the bus stop through a torrential downpour (under my teensy umbrella, which I had prudently brought with me.) At the corner was a guy with a tremendous umbrella--you could have parked a car under the thing. Then three sopping wet girls without umbrellas came to the corner. He took one look at them and raised the umbrella so they could take cover.
Here's a bird pretending to be Mondrian:
A sign on an office at work:
And finally, I'll have only spotty internet access until Sunday evening, so here's a little something in honor of my last full day in Pittsburgh. I've had a lovely time, and I'll miss it, but I'm ready to go home now.
Love,
Sarah