weather warm

Why is it that when the weather is gorgeous I find it a chore to do a weather post? Still, I must because I am memorying all of these posts as a weather archive and resource for future fic-integration.

This is weather to sit. The woodpigeons are cooing. The sun is warm on the skin, and the air is mild on the skin when one is in the shade. There is a tiny bite in the shadow. The shadows move across the lawn. Walking to the vet's with the guinea pig box made me feel hot in my long-sleeved top and singlet. Now I'm sitting next to the open sliding doors and I am almost a bit cool.

Everything is burgeoning and bursting forth. We seem to be living in some form of Romantic poem of spring. The air, when it rains, is heavy with scent, almost intoxicatingly. There is about ten times as much vegetation around as there was a month ago, and it is affecting the air, making it heavy and rich.

Daisies dot the grass. I like the look of asphalt in the sunshine, and the way dry little grasses grow in the pavement cracks. Everything has crusty texture in this warm sunshine.

The sky is blue, and the clouds long and wispy. They don't seem to be moving.