I returned home from France this week praying that summer weather would have arrived in Galway. My husband warned me otherwise. June could have easily been mistaken for March, April, May, even October. It rained...a lot. The wind blew. Damon wore his hooded raincoat every day. Nothing new. I savored every day I spent in France and Hungary, soaking up the humid air and sunshine. I keep hoping that summer will arrive; they'll be sunny skies and opportunities to wear shorts and tank tops.
I won't hold my breath.
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