Yesterday we had a perfectly beautiful day. I was down to my shirt-sleeves in the afternoon and the sky was cloudless and breeze caressing. Spring is coming - whether this is a little reminder that it's on its way or whether its the real thing matters not, so long as I took the time to enjoy it. And I did take some time to enjoy it (while I attacked a pile of washing up - did you not see my post from yesterday?!)
This is the time of year we begin to enjoy our house, because throughout the spring and summer it is a lovely cool house. Breezy and fresh, whatever direction the breeze is coming from - and although there are a few days when I turn on the air-conditioning it's not the house's fault that the temperature is just plain ridiculous that day.
The reason that we remember to enjoy our lovely cool house is that during the winter "lovely" and "cool" are not the terms we use to describe it. "Frigid" and "arctic" would be closer to the mark. I can't count the number of days when I leave the house and can take a jumper off upon going outside, if the sun is brightly shining. The house holds the cold well, and I'm too scungy to put on the heating in the mornings.
But then, what stimulus would there be to enjoy it in summer if the winters weren't so cold?
... Approximately None.
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