Strange Days

Never mind global warming, as such.  But am I the only person who thinks that the seasons have just shifted? 

There have always (or at least seemingly always) been patterns to the seasons.  For instance, the first couple of weeks after school started, when I was in school, it rained, as though mourning the passage of summer. 

The first week of August was always unbearably hot.  We kids’d sleep on the floor of the kitchen on those dog days, because it was the only place in the house with linoleum, and it was just cooler — often with a wet washcloth by our side to help the process along.  Needless to say, we didn’t have air conditioning, just lots of trees around the house, which was only helpful if there was a breeze.  This year, when August started, you’d think it was September already, with lowering Autumn-like skies over Lake Erie, the water looking grey, with whitecaps and looking threatening, and mornings with temperatures in the low 70s or even the high 60s; hardly ‘sirius’ly Summer heat.  And of course, if you’ve read this blog before, you’ve heard me complain about the lack of snow around the end of the year.

I do realize that memory is imperfect, and that what I think I remember may not be how it really was, but weather has always been my ‘madeleine in lime-flower tea’ when it comes to evoking memory, right up there with music.  And I’m pretty sure that things have changed.

On Napster:  “The Fool on the Hill” by Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66
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