I think I feel like the magnolia tree blossoms right now, rusty brown, shivering in the cold sunshine. This cold spring day reminds me of when we lived in New Hampshire. The first late spring I experienced. The sun shone, but no warmth until Memorial Day. Lilacs hid until this holiday. Bare trees opened the view of the sea shore. Cold breezes whipped hair around as we sat on sea walls.
The first Sunday that temperatures rose, we drove all around, avoiding bicyclists in Portsmouth. The sun seemed brighter in New England. David called his parents to report on a spring day finally arrived. We truly were not prepared to wait this long for spring. I relished all the historic homes, like John Paul Jones' yellow house, made it to a Sear's commercial for paint.
Tomorrow the temperatures rise again with thunder storms in the morning. Seems rain and warmer air go hand in hand. We had a long run of wonderful weather that lifted our spirits, that will soon return.
I hope to feel like the daffodils bright and perky tomorrow, too.
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