It's the faint traditionalism in me that demands cold winters, hot summers and smooth transitions during spring and autumn, but today's sixty-degree high-pressure system was the perfect, brief respite from weeks of snow and ice — especially since a frigid low is on its heels.
The coin changer in my apartment's laundry room predictably went bust the one day I intended to break a ten for quarters. Murphy's Law; can't complain, simply marvel. Sack of dirty clothes in one hand and detergent bottle in the other, I took the elevator to the first floor and walked out into the building's parking lot to raid my car's tollbooth change.
It's been months since I've approached the front door without a coat, and having come straight from laundry, my top was but a button-down and tie.
Had I brought a coat, I would've been a little hot.
We'll have spring soon enough. I may take a walk tonight, anyway.
What a beautiful evening.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING: Two inches of slushy white to brush off of the car, tiny flakes falling in early-mid morning. That's the Great Lakes winter I know!