It’s August of 1955, and the perpetually blue skies have given way to dark, gray clouds. They hang overhead for a few days like a thick blanket in the sky. Soon they are accompanied by strong winds that somehow aren’t strong enough to blow the clouds away. The green leaves on the trees are stirred, and the branches wave and bend. The stress of the wind causes fractures, some branches falling to the ground without a sound to be heard over the rushing wind.

When the rain comes hours later, it comes in sheets; horizontal walls of rain that sprinkle the windows and beat on the roofs. Umbrellas are turned inside out as people rush from their cars or houses to where they work each day. Just when it’s finally ending, and the wind is no longer howling, and the sun begins to peek through breaks in the clouds, the weather service announces a second hurricane on its heels.

The state of Connecticut barely has a chance to see the yellow sunlight and blue sky they’d missed so much before the heavy clouds gather again.