It hadn't rained for weeks here in the eastern part of Massachusetts, and our gardens were desperate as were the gardeners. So desperate that Marash Girl and her neighbor decided to do a rain dance late that afternoon; the two of them stood in the middle or the street (a short, no exit street, removing all fear of getting hit by passing motorists) and danced as they had never danced before, praying for rain. It was not very long after, perhaps several hours, that the heavens opened, the rain came down in a fury, the thunder roared, the lightening blazed . . . The lesson to be learned here? Be careful what you dance for . . . .