In which your humble narrator remarks on the seasonal madness of Minnesotans.
This is the first March in the Twin Cities in 675 years of record-keeping (since the reign of King Thorbjorn the Unresponsive) that there has been no snow. As I sit tapping out this this sentence at 8:52 a.m. it's already a balmy 54 degrees.
I am wearing a short-sleeved shirt.
To say that this has made the locals "happy" would be an overstatement. "Suspicious" is more like it. When the dumb college dudes started wearing those shiny shorts three weeks ago, (when it got into the 40s) the fleece-clad locals scoffed.
But today it's going to be 75. And the locals have all emerged from hibernation, blinking in the sun and looking vaguely sour, as if nice weather in March must surely be some sort of portent of doom.
The climate induced schizophrenia is especially noticeable on the playground where over-bundled children are tended by Mommies and Nannies in shorts. Children in parkas play with children in tee shirts. Child #1 still insists that we take his jacket with us whenever we leave the house, but he never wears it.
Color me suspicious. I'm also mystified why the same people who declared snow in winter meant climate change was a crock are not now flocking to their churches to beg the creator to stop climate change.
ReplyDelete