Spring is Here!

I heard songbirds again this morning. I'm glad that today marks the beginning of spring. I'm not so naïve about DC's crazy weather to think that today marks the end of extremes--snow storms one week and 70 degree weather the next. But I am encouraged that soon enough summer will return with the heat and humidity only a southerner could appreciated and even love.

This weekend, my potential roommate is moving to DC. It remains to be seen if we really are compatible but I am hopeful that we can find a perfect place to share. After visiting and calling countless places and only getting the run-around and lots of pressure to reserve the apartment now(!), I am convinced that given our budgets and desire for location and space, renting a house may be our best option. This has opened my eyes to living on the Hill, though Columbia Heights remains my first choice.

We'll see what happens but I am glad that I am one step closer to finding a place to call home.

Is it really August?

Our seemingly fall-like weather could have fooled me. I braced myself all summer long for the heat and humidity that has marked every August that I’ve spent in D.C. But where is it this year? Where is the oppressive heat and humidity that plagues the tourists and drives the locals out of town?

I actually donned a light sweater Saturday evening. That’s unheard of. Sure, I’d just returned from 95-degree Miami. But I expected more from D.C. This morning was the same—I was tempted to grab another sweater before heading out to work. What’s up with these temps?

I guess it signifies that the summer is drawing to a close. Lammas has passed (!), the days are shorter, and the daily low temperature is getting even lower.

It scares me that the summer is almost over, that these milder temperatures will only usher in cold temperatures that force me indoors—under the covers and near space heaters. I don’t know where the summer went. It was good, and of course, good things never last.

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful..."

Aww, the first snow of the season! Although I love snow and think that it's beautiful, it always makes me feel rather wistful. I didn't grow up with lots of white stuff, but I have so many great memories of snow/ice/sleet; and I will always smile like a child at the sight of the first snow of the season.

Today, I'm reminded of "snow" days as a kid in Atlanta. In the winter, Atlanta normally get loads of ice or just an inch of snow--that results in the closing of schools, mass hysteria at the grocery store, and sudden driving incompetence on the roads. The house I grew up in was built on a random incline (it was weird because all the houses around us were a few feet lower than ours--as if the builder wanted to ensure that our house overlooked all the others). My sister used to slide down our iced/snowed over driveway, and I used to take out my sand castle set and make figures in the snow. I also made sure to save a few cups of snow in our huge freezer--that's how special and uncommon snow was growing up.

I'm also reminded of the few amazing snowstorms I've experienced in D.C.--going crazy with classmates on the deserted National Mall or cozily sip homemade hot cocoa with my first love. Oh, and the time my lover and I spent hours clearing the sidewalks and car, fearful of falling or being iced in--only to have the sun come out and the temperature rise to a balmy 55 degrees F the following work day. Despite the mountain of balls I made that morning, I never did pelt him with a ice/snowball. My aim was always off.