60 degrees in March is a cause for celebration. It’s throw open the windows, and daringly go out without a coat weather. It’s refuse to feel envious when my parents gleefully tell me that they’ve had to close the windows because it’s only 60 degrees where they are (actually they usually tell me this in February when 60 degrees seems like an almost mythical temperature in Boston). It’s the promise of Spring weather and I look forward to it every year.
60 degrees in the last two weeks of August, however, is miserable. Read the rest of this entry ?