The land that Spring forgot

I've decided that there needs to be a place that is always Spring or Autumn.  More specifically, sunny, typically low humidity interspersed with a rainy day or two each week,  high of 72 and low of 45.  Lots of color: first, the tulips, lilac, and honeysuckle blooming, then the rose bushes, green trees for six months in the cooler, low humidity weather, and then beautiful red, orange and yellow leaves as it gets to that low of 45.

What I don't want is for is to be 82 on April 18.  That's ridiculous.

It's Spring.  I want Spring weather. I'm not ready for June to be here yet.  I want April!

The older I get, the less I tolerate Summer.  I used to love Summer.  It meant being out of school, hanging out at the pool, spending lazy days in front of the tv in an air conditioned living room with a fan blasting on me, and listening to the radio in the middle of the night because I could sleep in every morning.

Hanging out at a public pool as an adult isn't much fun.  They don't really allow you to drag one of the chairs into the shallow end of the pool so you can just lay there in the cold water.  I'm not much of a swimmer.  I just want to soak.

If I spend a lazy day in front of the tv now, I just feel guilty.

If I sleep in on a week day, I feel guilty.  So I don't stay up listening to the radio in the middle of the night.

And if that's not enough, it's just hot and humid for forever.  Yuck.

I tolerate winter better than summer.  I've learned just how much I have to bundle up at every temperature below 45 degrees.  And when it's really cold, snowy, and windy out, the crotchety old dog doesn't want to walk; she just does her business and turns around to go back inside.

But it's still cold, and the older I get, the less I tolerate the cold.  Oh, and just because it's cold doesn't mean there's no humidity.  I've had a perfectly good hair day ruined by humidity when it's only 37 out.

Come on, Illinois, I want Spring back.

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