Every year around the middle of May I have to perform an attitude reversal. I am a winter person. A fall person. A sort of spring person. Even though I grew up in a hot swamp minus the actual swamp, I no longer tolerate hot weather so well. It seems Mellow Little Person is similar. No-Fuss Dad has less body fat to keep him toasty so he tends to appreciate slightly higher temperatures. MLP, as a proper toddler should, leads with a delectable little round belly, and does not chill easily.
I confess to whining once the temperature goes above 85 degrees. Or it’s humid. Otherwise known as sometime in May until sometime in September. Unless you are in Texas. Then we’re talking early April until sometime in October. That’s just mean, Texas.
But we are here in NYC. And what a gloriously allergenic spring it has been! Ironically, these mostly cooler temperatures and endless moisture has sparked a brutal season for allergic folk. You have my sympathy and empathy, people.
See, we missed the weekend. We weren’t here for that flash of heat that would have totally, albeit temporarily demoralized me. We were in the chilly ocean breezes. As NFD put it well, Montauk doesn’t warm up until the ocean warms up. My kind of place.
Today it’s sparkly outside, if you disregard the blanket of crazy honey locust pollen on our sidewalk. Those trees let loose for a few weeks and it is as if the concrete were brown office carpet, but made with plant matter. That totally makes you sneeze. And sticks to everything.
I’m working on the positive here. I really am. This morning I could still wear a light jacket! Brilliant!