Signs of Spring

In my mind, the arrival of spring should be measured by the return of flip flops, and by that calculation, today was definitely the first day of spring. I even busted out the nail polish in celebration. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that if I'm wearing flip flops (me with the eternally cold feet) nearly everyone else already has been for weeks and I am therefore a good yardstick for measuring the official return of spring. I think you'd have a hard time finding anyone in the Denver to argue with you about my declaration of spring today, though. If someone didn't have a trusty pair of flip flops to wear today, they were out buying them. It was just that beautiful.

There were plenty of indications that we're on our way to summer besides the universal liberation of toes in the Denver metro area. Though we haven't had much of a winter, people jumped into the routine of summer with gusto. I played tennis and lathered on so much sunblock I smelled like a coconut and still managed to get a slight pink glow on my shoulders. Shorty-Shorts up the street was out mowing his lawn in full regalia. (How does the man maintain his tanned, leather exterior through the winter??) The new neighbors across the street washed their vehicles all afternoon, disregarding the prediction of rain for this evening. Something in our house malfunctioned and required Joe's attention and cursing for five hours straight, ultimately resulting in him standing outside looking questioningly at 100 feet of "surplus" wire he pulled out of our house. We stood in our front lawn and discussed the lack of shade and the crunchy brown vegetation Joe is trying to revive into grass. The evening rain arrived in gusts of dusty wind and a handful of giant drops, leaving ugly blotches on our neighbors' newly-washed cars. Yes, it was a typical summer day. If it hadn't ended with me cranking the windows shut while searching for some socks for my cold, white little toes, you could have sworn it was July.