Today was the first day that actually felt like summer. Not the first day that looked like summer – we’ve had plenty of those eye-candy beauties already: gorgeous, if rather frigid, enticements to a voluptuousness that, chilled, ends not with sweet surrender, but with cold and somewhat grumpy feelings all around as sweaters – not kisses from open lips – are rummaged from closets. Furtively.
But today… Ah, today was warm.
Of course this evening there’s a cool breeze coming over the Olympics (our “natural air conditioning”), but that breeze is a refreshment, like the smoke you perhaps enjoyed before you learned it was all bad for your health and you really should surrender, Dorothy! because, you know, in the end the Wicked Witch of Reasonable Expectations will get you anyway. For now, the cool breeze gives these old maid houses around here a chance to retreat once more to the comfort zone of temperance.
Pardon me, though, as I raise another bright red glass to summer and its tempting, probing, insistent profligacy.