This is the season of the striptease. Teeth grindingly chilly in the morning, warranting thick jumpers and substantial socks. By early afternoon the sun is blasting requiring a peeling of layers until decency dictates a halt.
I’m not complaining. The jolting icy air is as effective as smell salts to invigorate the sluggish gardener, the later gentle warmth carresses the muscles and boosts the batteries.
Tomorrow we have rain. I will have to depend on my reserves.