Chances are this was the last cool day till fall - on account of it's May 20 and there are never, ever cool days in June. To celebrate, we dragged a card table out to the fire escape, squeezed some chairs in, and played a game of cribbage without sweating. This will likely be impossible to repeat till sometime in October.
My family made fun of me recently for celebrating "last days." I may carry it too far on occasion - '"the last day you'll ever be nine!' "the last time we'll eat collards this year!"(I was wrong), "the last time we'll all be together in this spot!" ... usually as an excuse to go out for ice cream.
John reminds me that it's all "the last time." This is true, but I'm glad to notice on occasion - and to dedicate a small bowl of ice cream or a sunlit game of cribbage in honor of it. Especially when, after days of rain, things are so beautiful and healthy, the sky is clear, there's a nice breeze, Grace is amenable, I am free, the windchimes are tinkling, the jasmine is blooming, Rudy is still a young pup barking at those four chickens from his fire escape perch... I could go on.
Do you ever do this? I would love to hear.