Sunlight. What a difference you make. Warming our lonely northern region of the world with your seductive charms. Melting old man winter's latest dump and turning it into vital vitamins and minerals that will water the dormant brown grass and cause it to grow green again. And charming the pants and sweaters off young woman everywhere in exchange for more revealing clothing.
I love you Mr. Sunshine. You can pour in on me all day. That's why I'm sitting at the front window table at Bob's Java Hut. Calling it a window isn't very accurate. It's a garage door that pens up when the weather is nice and dogs walk in and out. Bikes are everywhere. The motorized kind. But today I don't see any motorcycles or dogs. It feels like a greenhouse, except it's devoid of any plant life. The only green is the color on the walls. And it's a mixed bag of people. Not the biker kind though. A younger crowd, Tattoos still covered up by winter clothing. A fair amount of them nicotine addicts who take their smoke breaks with a hearty dose of 39 degree weather instead of smoking inside like they could in years past.
It's supposed to be nice this weekend, and next week, and fingers crossed, maybe from now on? Okay, that's a tall order. But this winter has been an absolute bitch and really, don't we deserve some decent weather? I want to turn off the heat. That's what I want. To turn off the heat. Because right now I'm thoroughly enjoying the natural heat coming from our favorite distant star and it makes me feel glad to be alive.
It also makes me think of They Might Be Giants.
Bob's Java Hut
27th and Lyndale, Minneapolis
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