It’s spring here in the south. Know how I know? I wore a tank top and got a sunburn on Saturday, and wore a coat and warm socks on Sunday.
March, April, and sometimes even May are a guessing game when it comes to weather in Atlanta. The temperature can swing wildly from one day to the next, be bright and sunny one moment and pouring down rain the next. Southern springtime clearly has an issue making up its mind.
Kind of like a toddler.
I feel cold today, says spring. Lets make it 40ish degrees. Oh look, there is everyone all bundled up on their morning commute. Lets make it 60 degrees!
I completely understand, says the toddler. Today I refused to leave the house unless I was dressed like a cowboy. Then a bird looked at me funny and I had to take it all off.
Sometimes I like to surprise everyone, says spring. Like when there’s been five straight days of beautiful sunshine, and a great outdoor concert has just started, and then I make a rainstorm. Keeps people on their toes.
I do that sometimes! says the toddler. Like when I insist on using a blue spoon all the time, for every meal, and then I wait until we’re eating out and–surprise!!–blue is suddenly incredibly offensive and I must have orange.
That’s a really good idea, says spring. I should apply that concept to pollen count.
So bring on the spring. I’m prepared with a wish list and armed with a pair of cute rain boots.