Yesterday and today we’ve had the most gorgeous weather. 65 degrees, mostly sunny. It’s no wonder the squirrel came out to try to get back in before it becomes winter again. This sort of weather makes it feel like spring, or mid-autumn. The light and warmth must send some sort of signal to every living thing’s central nervous system, or something, because not only were the robins out, but I swear I can see buds on certain trees, and the grass feels greener. And me, too. I had the terrible urge to go out and soak up sunlight, to drink my coffee on the front stoop and feel the breeze on my face. A neighbor across the street and several doors down was sitting on her stoop earlier, too, drinking coffee like I was, and behind her, from within her house, black gospel music drifted out and up and down the street for the span of several houses, as if it were a fog or mist of some sort. I smiled and waved at her, and she waved back, smiling. It was that sort of day when neighborly love comes up like the buds on trees and returns like the sighting of a robin on my back fence. In these two days, I’ve felt so spoiled, I will probably feel jilted and rejected when winter returns again very soon. It’s one of those whirlwind romances, a weekend affair, when spring blows through winter for several days, and makes you feel young and full of possibilities again.
Actually, here one of the biggest things I’ve noticed is that even though it’s spring-warm, it’s still totally winter, as everything smells brown and dead.
Oh, that’s so weird. It doesn’t smell brown and dead here, or else I’m not smelling it for some reason. Maybe the light and warmth produced illusory smells from memory today, though. That’s quite a possibility.
It wasn’t your memory–the days were exhiliratingly (I think I just made up a word) gorgeous. I too drank my coffee on the stoop.