Reading the Weather Writing on the Wall

Spring has theoretically sprung, but the robins are reluctant—more grackles than harbingers of spring in my yard. Undaunted and enticed by the bright sun, I hopped on my bike: rode south to main street and then due west, but when I turned north, winter blasted me and my face was froze when I arrived at my destination on Claddagh hill. Perfect time/place for a Sunday morning Bloody Mary!

Someone with perhaps more insight called this one at the Club Saturday night: no spring this year, we will launch right into summer. OK. Open the pool! They might be right.