Of course everyone else says it's so cold so cold the kids can't go for walks it's so cold. In fact it's pretty dead on average: but the April winds blow strong, so yeah, it feels cold; and I wear my winter jacket (though without! a fleecy these last two days) and gloves and neck warmer and all. But because I have a Weather Memory, which no one else has, I know how much worse it could be. An April that doesn't snow is still a rarity, but in other years the snow has stuck around and one wears boots mid-month. This week's vanishing snow flurries tumbling from splendid spun-silk clouds were no more than an aesthetic diversion. The empty trees are lovely traceries against cheerful blue and white skies: skies that look quite mundane in warm years when the green has already started, or even the blossoms, are gorgeous when the trees are still November bare.
This then is deep contentment weather: sun, brisk cold, blue skies and benign cloud. Doesn't stay-- April is a psychotic month in any country I've lived in, and the sweet-faced beauty can turn around within a day and become sullen and lowering, unleashing loud sudden severe thunderstorms and winds that break trees and flip cars. But for the moment all is as heart could desire.
