Yesterday, June 1, was a “cold” day in June, despite the sun shining for well over 12 hours that day.
It was not truly cold. Some people did venture out with shorts and short skirts. My mind, though, flashed back to an old episode of the Flintstones, where it was, indeed, a cold day in June. I wore a jacket and a high necked shirt and undershirt to protect against the slight breeze.
The day before yesterday was firmly chilly, with an overcast sky. I felt the air brush against my skin even though I was bundled up
The day before that, May 30, was rainy and cool enough that I wore the coat I wore to London and Physics Day decades ago. I wore that cost the day before yesterday, but I do not think I will wear a jacket again for a few months.
In a day, it will be blazing and oppressive in terms of heat, but right now, I am savoring the odd feeling of the tip of my nose, the tips of my toes and fingers, my ankles, and my shoulders all being cold in the month of June in the Northern atmosphere. It is possible I may never feel this sensation again.
Even as I write this, there is a chill in the air that persists long after the sun has risen.
