Spring-time travelogue - part two (the final one)

Well, yes, I'm cognizant of the fact that it's supposedly summer by now, but, honestly, jugding by the outdoor tenmperature that's climbed up to a meagre 11 degrees Celsius, it's more like barren March to me than throbbing June.


 Bad weather affects me, certainly, although I've yet to suffer a depression triggered by multiple low pressure weather systems.


So what do you do when downpour engulfs you, blocking even the tiniest, most resilient patch of blue sky from sight? You dream on for the unlikely prospect of a July that will lavishly spray it's vast pent-up reservoir of those hot summer days on you; those days you more ore less think belong to ancient history and not to the near future. Because hope is the last thing a man will abandon. It survives even a close-up, in-depth study of all the accessible weather data usually called a weather forecast. In us is the perennial tendency to want to think that those college nerds, the meteorologists, finally have got it all wrong. No more rain until you want it to pour down again. Only sun for as long as you want!


Or you can always resort to the comforting memories of yesteryear. Because, funnily enough, all past summers - at least after some time - seem to morph into ethereal creatures that whisper encouragingly in your ears when all you can observe is mile upon mile of overcast sky. These unseen helpers somehow make it into your brekfast-table small-talk and prevents the general mood from taking a dangerous downturn.


These past months have seen too much moisture, though,. originating from the greyish titans that constantly hover over our houses and gardens. They hamper free movement, interfering with any impulse to stay outdoors for more than half an hour. And so the only travel I've done recently is in this blissful domain called my mind. I've allowed myself to retrieve from narrow alleys hiding past thrills those glimpses of what summer can really be like. Take our family tour of the USA two years ago e.g. There's no way you can possibly beat that experience. Our vacation among Tolos in Washington and Connecticut somehow always resurface in our conversations.


We never tire of talking about the past, at least for as long as this past represents the zenit of our aspirations (as to what a perfect summer should be). Come on, God, bring on some more fine weather, please? There's plenty of time for rain to come in, say, a month's time or two?