It’s 80 degrees today, wearing shorts, tank, and flip flops. It’s a conspiracy, I say to my daughter. You’re nuts, she says to me. It’s March 21 in Rochester, NY.
Outside it smells like perfume – many flowers are in full bloom, the forsythia has burst forth, ice cream stands are open two months early, and I’ve been riding my horse in the outdoor ring which is nice and groomed instead of boggy as it usually is in March. It isn’t even Easter yet!
We are all dizzy with the sights, smells, and taunts of summer. I saw someone in the neighborhood opening their pool. I dragged my summer wardrobe from the cellar so now my closet is packed because I don’t yet dare put the winter stuff into the shadow zone. I talked to my friend in California today where it’s cold. Then there was the snowstorm this week in Arizona.
Yep – I’m sure – it’s a conspiracy. And for once, we here in Rochester are on the stellar end of things, so pardon me while I eat my ice cream and dangle my toes in the kiddie pool!