Bee-You-Tee-Full
What is so lovely as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days
--James Russell Lowell
When I first read these lines, probably in upper grade school, I agreed with them. After all, June meant the beginning of summer vacation and, while the weather was warm, it wasn't blazingly hot. As time has passed and the climate heats up (or certainly seems to do so), I've been more likely to carp about June (or even the end of May) starting the unbearable onslaught of heat and humidity that is Tidewater summer. I'd try to give Lowell the benefit of the doubt because he lived in New England a couple of centuries or so ago.
Today, however, must have been just the sort of day the poet imagined. It was warm, not hot and certainly not humid. There were delicious breezes blowing most of the day. The sky was blue and not cloudless but with high, light clouds. The neighbor's cat deemed it safe to reappear. Glorious, glorious stuff. Kind of day you could make a fortune off if you could bottle it for well-timed releases later.
Then, if ever, come perfect days
--James Russell Lowell
When I first read these lines, probably in upper grade school, I agreed with them. After all, June meant the beginning of summer vacation and, while the weather was warm, it wasn't blazingly hot. As time has passed and the climate heats up (or certainly seems to do so), I've been more likely to carp about June (or even the end of May) starting the unbearable onslaught of heat and humidity that is Tidewater summer. I'd try to give Lowell the benefit of the doubt because he lived in New England a couple of centuries or so ago.
Today, however, must have been just the sort of day the poet imagined. It was warm, not hot and certainly not humid. There were delicious breezes blowing most of the day. The sky was blue and not cloudless but with high, light clouds. The neighbor's cat deemed it safe to reappear. Glorious, glorious stuff. Kind of day you could make a fortune off if you could bottle it for well-timed releases later.