O Spring, where did you go?

This is what I mean when I complain about Chicago "not really having a spring". A week ago, it was in the 40s [single digits Celsius], now it's in the 70s [20s]. This is not spring weather; this is summer weather. I came back from my jaunt by the lakeside Sunday bright red due to the lack of shade and today a simple stroll down Broadway to the post office was enough to leave me all prickly with sweat. Icky!

But the worst will be visiting monshu. He lives in a great big apartment building where switching from heating to cooling is a big foufara, so they wait until they're absolute certain that the weather won't change back. (Yet, somehow he's also personally responsible for maintaining his own heating units. Worst of both worlds!) It's the same in my building except that I have WINDOWS. You know, the old fashioned kind that actually OPEN. monshu has a spectacular wall of glass facing west, which is to say he lives in a natural greenhouse. "Opening the windows" for him means tilting a transom-sized section at the bottom of each to create a six-inch gap through which to let air flow in. (No, of course he doesn't have any fans--unless you count the four-inch ones that keep his orchids cool or something.)

Plus this excessive warmth will make all the flowers bolt, which means by the time I get back from St. Louis, they could be all gone. Dandelions and violets are already overtaking the lawns; I suppose it can't be much longer before I start seeing white clover!