There are those who like winter to feel like winter. I can understand and appreciate this notion; however, coming from Texas, and having experienced almost solely winters where 50 degrees was consiered pea coat weather, I am not one of these folks. If the temperature in late January decides to go from 25 to 35 to 45 to--!!!--55 degrees, then that is okay with me!
When the temperature sky rockets thus, one sees midwestern men trot around campus in cargo shorts and flip flops. It's a thing. And I am not ashamed to own that I do not understand it.
But these people who prefer their winters to give them snow and 30-degree days...would they rob me of my joy? When I went to the grocery store yesterday, the cashier acquainted me with her displeasure at the sudden warmth. I was so pleased at my grocery-budgeting that I was hardly bothered at the time--but today, on the second day of the insane peek-into-spring, I couldn't help but feel myself frown a bit when both colleagues and passerby remarked that the beautiful day was simply "not right."
All you naysayers, I tell you this: after my classes today I took a stroll down by the river and sat on a stone bench. I read several pages of Clarissa before the shade set in and my bum got cold. The sun on the back of my neck was lovely. Deal with it.
cardigan: JCrew
dress: vintage
boots: gifted, old
belt: thrifted
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