Last night I was walking to the library, and it was quite freezing out. I had to wear a hat and scarf, and even some socks with my flip flops. Something kept tickling at my brain while I was walking, and it took me almost the entire walk to figure out what it was.
It smelled exactly like a summer night: the just cut grass, the slight increase in humidity, the cooling off of the pavement! It was so strange, because I'm sure the temperature was close to freezing, less than 40 degrees anyways. In Wyoming, that strictly summer feeling doesn't come about until June! And it is March!
The most unbelievable part of an English winter is the fact that the grass stays green throughout! It doesn't go dormant. So all winter, you have a little hint of summer, a tiny spark of hope that the sun might be warm again soon, hell, that it might shine again at all! Everything is not lost after all!
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