Even though winter is certainly over, temperatures in the Boston area haven't exactly been warm yet either. We've been stuck in the 40's and 50's doldrums, with lots of wind and rain, for the past month or so - with just a spare day here and there of sunny days above 60. I remain confident that Memorial Day and beyond will bring more heat to my weary, cold bones.
Talking about the weather is so cliche and banal, right? When I lived in California the weather was never a necessary topic. A conversation would go like this: "Oh look its sunny again", "Great!", the end. But the weather in New England is like the dark over-lord of my entire existence. There aren't merely four seasons, there are a myriad of air, land and sea factors waiting to collide and ruin my day at any given moment. Chicago is called the windy city, but did you know that Boston is actually equally as windy? And that we get about as much rain as Seattle? And that its nipple-piercing cold for about 6 months of the year?
In a few months I'll be complaining about the oppressive heat and humidity but right now I can only say: bring it on. I haven't stepped out of my house without a jacket on and felt a sensation of warmth in so long its hard to even remember the feeling. Sometimes I look at photos of friends back home romping in their swimming pools in April and I ask myself "Was I out of my mind when I moved to Massachusetts?". Clearly, yes.
This summer will be different for two key reasons. First, because our new condo has central air-conditioning; a coveted luxury in these parts. No place that I've lived out here has had indoor A/C until now; my husband has never had it, his entire life. Wrap your minds around that, Californians! No more late July nights laying on my bed in front of an oscillating fan, naked except for the towels covered with ice cubes.
Second, because, when we do have to be outdoors, our new condo is only three short blocks from the beach. The Californians will scoff at my use of the term "beach" here, but its the ocean and its sand and its good enough for me, even if its not quite up to SoCal standards. Or even Cape Cod. But there's sailing and swimming and and clam shacks and ice-cream stands. There's something so old world world and charming about the New England seashore that the West Coast versions can't quite muster. I love the old lighthouses and stone sea-walls and looking out onto the Atlantic imagining what the pilgrims thought of this place when they washed ashore here 400 years ago.
This is all an incredibly long intro to posting some photos of our stroll along the beach last Sunday. The first time Flutie stepped onto the sand he was a bit freaked out, but it took him about 30 more seconds to fall head over heels in love with the it, romping and digging and rolling with abandon. He is now a total, inconsolable beach bum. Every time we step out our front door he starts pulling the leash towards the direction of the water. We have to literally drag him, kicking and screaming, off the sand to go back home.
Without further ado, here are some new pictures of our family outing along the south shore:
Talking about the weather is so cliche and banal, right? When I lived in California the weather was never a necessary topic. A conversation would go like this: "Oh look its sunny again", "Great!", the end. But the weather in New England is like the dark over-lord of my entire existence. There aren't merely four seasons, there are a myriad of air, land and sea factors waiting to collide and ruin my day at any given moment. Chicago is called the windy city, but did you know that Boston is actually equally as windy? And that we get about as much rain as Seattle? And that its nipple-piercing cold for about 6 months of the year?
In a few months I'll be complaining about the oppressive heat and humidity but right now I can only say: bring it on. I haven't stepped out of my house without a jacket on and felt a sensation of warmth in so long its hard to even remember the feeling. Sometimes I look at photos of friends back home romping in their swimming pools in April and I ask myself "Was I out of my mind when I moved to Massachusetts?". Clearly, yes.
This summer will be different for two key reasons. First, because our new condo has central air-conditioning; a coveted luxury in these parts. No place that I've lived out here has had indoor A/C until now; my husband has never had it, his entire life. Wrap your minds around that, Californians! No more late July nights laying on my bed in front of an oscillating fan, naked except for the towels covered with ice cubes.
Second, because, when we do have to be outdoors, our new condo is only three short blocks from the beach. The Californians will scoff at my use of the term "beach" here, but its the ocean and its sand and its good enough for me, even if its not quite up to SoCal standards. Or even Cape Cod. But there's sailing and swimming and and clam shacks and ice-cream stands. There's something so old world world and charming about the New England seashore that the West Coast versions can't quite muster. I love the old lighthouses and stone sea-walls and looking out onto the Atlantic imagining what the pilgrims thought of this place when they washed ashore here 400 years ago.
This is all an incredibly long intro to posting some photos of our stroll along the beach last Sunday. The first time Flutie stepped onto the sand he was a bit freaked out, but it took him about 30 more seconds to fall head over heels in love with the it, romping and digging and rolling with abandon. He is now a total, inconsolable beach bum. Every time we step out our front door he starts pulling the leash towards the direction of the water. We have to literally drag him, kicking and screaming, off the sand to go back home.
Without further ado, here are some new pictures of our family outing along the south shore:
Me and Flutie flanked by the Boston skyline.
I just love Flutie's whole look in this one.
The beach boys.
Me and my happy-tongued pupple.
Total joy.
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