Technically not here yet by the calendar, but step outside anytime in daylight hours and it'd be hard to argue otherwise. Hot, and dry. And hot.
A deliciously cool, moist spring lingered until the last of May, showering us literally (and the other way too) with luscious green grasses and intense displays of wildflowers. No two springs are ever alike in that sense, but the grasses far surpassed the blossoms this year, to our surprise and delight.
About a week ago the first warm temps finally hit, and have continued to intensify daily. Soil is drying out, flowers have largely wilted and faded. Jeny and I decided to step out for a leisurely evening ride, the main point of which was to savor, and bid farewell to, the luxuriant greenery.
Peeps that live in less arid places will no doubt look at these pics and wonder where the alleged greenery is, this lusciousness for which I am so gaga.
My only explanation is that things are relative. This place is a desert, and the difference between now and a month from now is difficult to comprehend if you live someplace with months and months of green, or evergreen.
96* in the forecast for tomorrow. 98* for the weekend. We embrace that reality for a few lingering months in exchange for half a year of nirvana spread over spring and fall, and the gamble of dry, mild winters that don't seem so mild, or dry, anymore.
That, and we flee to the mountains every opportunity, all summer long
So long, spring. See you next time.