Maybe the Irish are used to Mother Nature's cruel jokes, pouring sunshine and warm temperatures along the West Coast of Ireland after seven months of bone-chilly winds and intermittent rain.
She flirted with me earlier this month. I returned from Prague to find girls in bikinis tip-toeing on the sandy beaches of Salthill. Hordes of people walked along the Prom in shorts and tee shirts, licking balls of vanilla ice cream from atop sugar cones. I painted my toenails. I pulled my capri pants out of storage, deep in the back of my closet. Did I dare believe that summer was here, that this glorious weather would never end?
The Irish told me not to get used to it. Mother Nature is a tease in this part of the world. But I dreamed that this year, just maybe, Ireland would have a warm, sunny summer while us Californians are living near the sea.
We returned from Barcelona on Monday to cool breezes and cloudy skies. Yesterday, I wanted to go running, but it was chilly and windy, so I opted for the treadmill at our gym. Today, it rained all morning. My flip-flops are worthless again. I have no idea when, or if, Mother Nature will stroll in and drop a bucket of sunshine on us again.
The silver lining: we leave for Greece one week from Friday.