The Starks obviously don’t live in Texas. 

 

Sweat is creeping down the small of my back, curling down my thighs. I would go shower but I’ve already done that today and we are still in the midst of a nasty drought. I can feel my hair curling up my neck as the humidity presses closer.
The weather is like a particularly obnoxious ex-lover; the kind who just won’t take a hint. It presses against you and breathes hot, damp need in your face. On the plus side, at least it brings you flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the negative side, after delivering yet another series of bright promises, springtime always fades quickly. Summer soon arrives, wearing its stained strappy T-shirt and holding a six-pack with 2 beers missing. It’ll lean in close and eye your AC unit with an experienced eye. Then it’ll laugh with a sardonic twist to its lips.  And the heat and misery you thought you were suffering a few weeks ago will now seem a delicious haven.