All of Wellington has been yearning towards spring. On days with the least sliver of sunshine, people sit down at outdoor cafe tables, set outside by equally hopeful cafe owners. Women put on their dresses, while girls wear soft short skirts above their winter-weight leggings. Everyone scans the skies like dogs yearning for a heavenly treat. Is it spring now? Now? How about now?
The first day of Wellington’s spring is a classic; curtains of rain drift in and out, leaving warmth and rainbows behind – until a new front, more threatening than the last, comes in. At Wellington Airport, Winona has a perfect view of the weather’s vagaries.
Wellington’s springs are slow and cold, winter blowing back in at the least provocation. Winona’s not sorry to be waiting for the boarding announcement for the flight to Melbourne, even if her two nephews are already acting up.
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perfect.
whereas, like you’d think, we are yearning for less sweating and the end of the damnable state fair which is less than a half mile from my apartment.
miss you, M.