So today, before I headed out to wait for Christopher's bus, I went to the back closet for my fleece-lined jacket. Learned my lesson from being out there with no jacket 3-1/2 hours earlier when I was putting him on the bus. I stood there shivering as my attempts to block the wind-driven rain with my golf umbrella proved to be futile.
I hunkered down beneath the umbrella, staring at the raindrops falling at my feet. I wore white cotton pants, and it felt strangely odd, like I shouldn't be wearing them. But Memorial Day has come and gone, so the rule of etiquette says I can wear them, right? Even if it feels like March.
I looked back at my house, making sure it was really mine and it was in its right neighborhood of homes. Because maybe with this crazy weather, some tornado came and scooped it up and carried it to..., oh I don't know..., maybe Seattle or someplace where it rains ALL THE TIME and endless soggy, gray days are not so uncommon.
Everything looked familiar. Nothing out of place except the temperatures and rain. Christopher's bus pulled up and he was off to school. I paddled my boat back to my dock, careful not to hit any buoys on the way.
There is just nothing quite like a late spring day in New England. How lucky are we to be living here.
No comments:
Post a Comment