it was a dark and stormy night

... and there we were, tromping around in a cemetery, with lightning flashing.
Not jellyfish lightning, just the normal variety.
The group of us were there for the Bonaventure After Hours tour, a "rain or shine" event.
This evening, it was definitely "rain".
Then again, I was there with my bfe, so of course the weather was marking the occasion by throwing water at us.
At least it was warm water!
Seriously.
I guess we should have given fair warning to the rest of the group.
"Hey, just to let you know! The bfe and I made this tour date with plenty of advance notice to Mother Nature, so you should make sure to bring your wet-weather gear!"
We were all pretty thoroughly soaked by the time the tour was done. The plastic rain ponchos and umbrellas and raincoats were no match for the dripping of the sky and the trees and the bushes. Nope, no match at all.
The tour guide was fabulous, keeping up his steady patter as if the day were bright and clear, rather than dark and stormy. His huge flashlight illuminated the statues and slabs and tree roots of interest along the way, serving as a focal point and a distraction from the water drops beading up and dripping from every surface around, and on, us.
Still, I enjoyed myself.
You know me: I come to the party to actively have a good time, not to placidly be entertained.
Once the tour was done and we were heading back toward the exit gate, I was free to listen to the music in my mind.
After all, the bfe had other things on his mind and was fairly uncommunicative. He'll soon have to say a last farewell to his favorite cat, as she has a cancer which currently occupies about a quarter of her mass, but does not seem to cause her pain. I hope she will make it to the summer.
Most of the group was lagging behind, perhaps mistakenly thinking they might be able to stay a bit drier if they tarried.
I had no such delusion.
The deluge had me soaked pretty well from my knees to my toes.
So, as we had just left the final resting place of Johnny Mercer, I started singing "Skylark" to myself and dance-walking along the puddle-strewn paths.
Hey! That was fun!
Then, "Singing in the Rain" popped into my brain and, as that is one of my all-time favorite songs since I was a girl, I started dance-walking to that, singing to myself and snapping my fingers a bit.
Definitely fun!
Then I just turned loose! Why bother trying to keep the hood of the rain poncho up on my head? My hair was getting wet anyway! And why, pray tell, should I entertain myself with song sotto voce when it was clear to all that something was up? Whistle, my girl, whistle away!
And so I did, whistling while my hair was caressed by the wet breeze, whistling as I snapped my fingers and waved my hand and waggled my shoulders and hips, whistling as I STOMPED in the puddles!!!
Why not?
After weathering the emotional storm throughout the week, this bit of weather was just that: a bit of weather.
Wet weather.
Rain.
And I like the rain.
I have some of the best times ever with my bfe when the rain falls.
Even when he is mourning his dear cat.