SUMMER CLOTHES

Having faith we are done with snow and below freezing temperatures, I decided to spend Easter Sunday swapping out the winter clothes for the summer ones.  This twice yearly ritual is always more work, and takes longer than I expect it to, but there is a certain satisfaction in fully accepting the change of seasons.

When I was a kid in Miami, Woolworth’s used to sell cans of “Florida Sunshine.”  I always wanted to get one and open it.  I wondered if they painted the inside yellow.  I thought of those souvenirs when I opened a box filled with linen pants, flip flops and t-shirts.  Without fail, there is an article of clothing that I had forgotten.  Coming across it makes it seem like Christmas.  This year it was a groovy pair of canvas shoes I bought towards the end of last summer.  I barely had a chance to wear them before stowing them away.  Uncovering them, I immediately saw myself  al fresco, laughing over margaritas, and looking dangerously hip in my canvas shoes.  The summer wardrobe is full of potential.  Romance, beaches, road trips in my beloved Miata (which is still in stasis in the garage – I reconstitute her in May).  The movie trailer plays in my head as I unfold and rehang  that adorable cotton top.  Warm nights, cold beer, burgers on the grill.  The air of possibility enters my apartment as I take down the last of the cellophane window covers. 

The dark winter colors, the heavy woolens are packed up next to flannel shirts and corduroy pants and stuffed into the back of the closet with mittens and scarves and thermal underwear.  With the cold short days behind us, people are actually friendly again.  For a little while.  Until they start complaining about the heat.  A nice day in New England is almost never taken for granted.  It sort of fits with the whole notion of the Yankee sensibility.  “Can’t have too many nice days, ah-nope.  It’ll make you soft.  E-yup, gotta ration out that sunshine, so’s people knows what’s good for ‘em.”

When I decided to leave Los Angeles, many questioned my judgement with the statement, “But what about the winters?”  My stock reply to this question was, “There’s more to life than weather.”  I freely admit that as I get older, winters are harder to take, but my choice to leave LA had very little to do with climate.  As I fully engage in the seasons, I find a sense of forward motion, of movement through time.  A feeling you don’t get when the leaves don’t change.  I’m sure that by the time Columbus Day rolls around, I’ll be daydreaming about crisp autumn nights, hot apple cider and warm cozy sweaters. 

But for now, my favorite cargo shorts, white tank top and Red Sox hat will do me just fine.