But summer does not care…

But Summer does not care —

She goes her spacious way

As eligible as the moon

To our Temerity —

Emily Dickinson

I’ve lost my gloves.  I always lose my gloves in January.  I’m ready for summer.  I’m ready for longer days of sunshine. I’m longing for the smell of freshly cut grass and the refreshing smell of ozone after a rainfall.  I wish to open up all my windows and let in a gentle cross breeze flow through the rooms.

I’m ready for sandals and skirts and sunscreen.  Bright colours and patterns.

Light suppers of fresh salads and fruits.  Produce that isn’t imported but rather grown within a day’s driving distance.

I’m living for late evenings sitting on my balcony and sipping wine spritzers or lemonade. Watching the fiery pink setting of the sun.

I want cotton not flannel.  Pedicures not socks.  T-shirts not turtlenecks.

An opened sunroof instead of a heated seat.

I want to take the snowbrush out of the vehicle and replace it with my golf clubs.

I long.

I want.

I wish.

I have….

An excuse to put Baileys in my coffee.

Hot baths with bubbles.

Cozied at a table surrounded by friends in a toasty lounge sharing a bottle of red.

The fairytale charm of trees coated in frost.

Hmm…which may be just enough to see me through to March.

I’ll reassess then.     : )

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