Last weekend was the earliest the Memorial Holiday can be. It is traditionally the start of the summer season -- never mind that summer solstice business. Part of the weekend was very lovely, especially Saturday afternoon. But the skies seem not to have understood that summer should be here now. It's gray -- a depressing gray with sprinkles now and then although no real rain.
As long as we all live, we just can't seem to get it through our heads that the seasons don't come in through an open door and act like well mannered guests. The weather behaves ilke a bratty adolescent with moods of all sorts. Last year we had a very uncomfortable heatwave from about June 3rd through the 8th -- I remember it well for a guest from Australia was happy enough to have escaped their winter but was somewhat flummoxed by the oven-like streets.
Of course I know "everyone talks about the weather even though they can do nothing about it." Which is just what I'm doing. And I'm acting like another sort of adolescent, a spoiled one who wants to go for walks, wants to sit on my patio in the sun, wants to gaze at clear blue skies. Since I'm not an adolescent in age, I know the sun will shine and in the meantime I can find other ways to occupy myself and should have the good manners to stop grumbling and get on with things I enjoy. Will do.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!