It must be the depths of winter when the mere absence of clouds and mizzle makes me as giddy as an opium fiend and as excited as a debutante. I'd blog some more, but the sunny day beckons like a scantily-clad houri.
I love the sun, and feel quite drear without it. In England, that soggy little isle, people sit like plants on benches, faces pointed upward, whenever the sun pokes through the clouds (then scurry back inside once the gray settles back).
Portland is much the same, except here were stroll about all in our fleecy outerwear regardless, as I mentioned in the preceding post. The sun dies bring everyone outside, tho, in much the same fashion.
3 comments:
I love the sun, and feel quite drear without it. In England, that soggy little isle, people sit like plants on benches, faces pointed upward, whenever the sun pokes through the clouds (then scurry back inside once the gray settles back).
Portland is much the same, except here were stroll about all in our fleecy outerwear regardless, as I mentioned in the preceding post. The sun dies bring everyone outside, tho, in much the same fashion.
Yes, I imagine you have a healthier, more active mindset out West.
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