The sun came back again today and has that sharpness I always associate with a cold winter’s day. The breeze is blowing the dead leaves still hanging on the ends of the oak branches. I noticed buds on a few of the bushes in my front garden. I wish I could warn them not to be seduced by this winter’s weather.

Today I’m tired. I turned off my alarm and went back to sleep but luckily woke up in time to meet my friend for Sunday breakfast. Our place was unusually crowded, and a line waited outside for  booths. It was more like a summer morning than one in winter.

The worst part of winter is having cold hands or feet even in a warm house. When my feet are cold, my whole body is cold. Yesterday was one of those days even though I was already wearing socks and slippers, but they just weren’t doing their jobs so I went hunting for my favorite old wool socks, the ones with moth holes on the bottoms. I finally found them, put them on and then put my slipper socks over them. I stuffed my hands in the pocket of my hoodie and finally I felt warm.

Summer means so many things to me. Summer is lazy days reading on the deck under the umbrella. Warm summer nights are for playing games and eating dinner outside with friends. I can remember the taste of the first of summer’s barbecued Tony burgers, named after my friend who concocted them. On Saturdays, summer is movie night on the deck with Raisinettes and popcorn. Most of all, though, summer is  baseball.

Today the pitchers and the catchers report. Soon enough we’ll be hearing the cracks of the bats and the shouts of the crowd. I can hardly wait for opening day.