Today was the first hot day. You know this day, where ever you are and whenever you might experience it: yours may have been a month ago, or you may still have snow on your front steps, but today was our first hot day. I wore a short-sleeved linen peasant blouse and the sun warmed my pale arms, limbs that hadn’t seen sun in months.
I drove by college kids in tank tops and breezy skirts, so quick to shed their winter skins, so adaptable. It always takes me a while to feel comfortable, like after a hibernation of winter’s modesty I’m revealing too much of myself. I don’t know if that’s real or metaphor.
The flowering short trees are turning pale pink and deep magenta and papery white with blossoms but the mighty trees, the pergola above, are still bare. They’ll fill out soon, verdant with leaves that right now are just tree-thoughts forming.
Everything changes after the first hot day, doesn’t it?