BREAKING NEWS: it has finally reached a temperature in New England that I would actually classify as “spring.” This is a big deal, because I had officially given up hope that this day would ever come. It is not uncommon in lil’ New England to sometimes skip from snow and 35° to a sweltering 98° (boy band reference), and this transition usually happens in the middle of July. So imagine my surprise to find myself totally comfortable outside on a gorgeous spring day. Because if there is one thing New England is not- it’s comfortable (oh, and populated). If we get lucky sometimes there are two weeks of spring and two weeks of fall, and everyone gets outside and gets a couple freckles on their white Irish skin, then heads back inside for the unexpected heat of the summer and the dreaded frigid winter. I’m sure people up in Minnesota or Montana, or any other one of those northern “M” states suffer through a similar thing, but I can’t complain for them. I’m only complaining on behalf of New Englanders in creaky, old, historic houses sniffling through cold winters (lasting from October-April). This awful weather for a good ¾ of the year leads to crazed people struggling to hold on to anything that reminds them of good times, and that happens to be ice cream. Once ice cream shops open, not even snow can stop people from grabbing frozen deliciousness perched on a sugar cone (true story- people will brave snow to get ice cream). I mean, the region has the highest amount of ice cream consumption per capita, and that’s for a reason people. We’ve got to celebrate when we can. So weather rant over, I am super happy about the strange turn of events resulting in a New England spring. Thanks global warming!
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