Remember when watching softball games in May meant the weather was nice and warm?
Yeah, those were good times.
Today, however, it was COLD. Cold enough to snow this morning. Cold enough that even with a turtleneck, a huge sweatshirt, a coat, & gloves, I was contemplating the feasibility of watching the game from the warmth of the car.
One of my friends on Twitter asked me if it was perpetually winter here. I think it might just be.
And then I read this in the book I'm currently reading:
"Rebus had been taught in school that there were four distinct seasons, had painted pictures of them in bright and somber colours, but his native country seemed not to know this. Winters were long, outstaying their welcome. The warm weather came suddenly, people stripping to t-shirts as the first buds appeared, so that spring and summer seemed entwined into a single season. And no sooner had the leaves started turning brown than the first frost came again."
-from The Hanging Garden, by Ian Rankin
Dang if he didn't get it in one.