April Showers (Open)
Apr 5, 2012 20:27:28 GMT -5
Post by Hart Kenney on Apr 5, 2012 20:27:28 GMT -5
Hart was still getting used to Vermont weather after the years spent in North Carolina. The forecast for Monday was snow! Snow! In April! The highest the temperature had been all week was 51 degrees, though Saturday promised to get up to 54.
That seemed downright temperate given recent weeks, he reflected, pulling his coat closer about him.
Despite the frigidness of the evening he hadn't gone home after work; he longed for fresh air and the breeze after being cooped up inside answering phones and playing on facebook all day, and thus he found himself at the lake.
He briefly entertained the idea of sitting on one of the benches dispersed around the periphery of the lake, but that notion was soon quelled when he realized they were all yellow with pollen as well as damp from the drizzle earlier in the day. That was for the best; movement would keep him warmer than lounging.
The cold made him sluggish, and he made slow laps about the lake, the wind stinging his ears and turning the tips red until he pulled up the hood on his coat.
He was on his second lap when grey clouds skittered across the sky, moving at a quicker pace than he had realized when he'd first spotted them from the distance. Soon they were directly overhead, and fat drops of water began to fall from the sky.
He was on the opposite side of the pond from his car, and he vocally cursed his luck.
"This always happens." He grumbled, tugging at his hood and turning his lazy walk into a mad dash. "Weather doesn't like me round this lake."
That seemed downright temperate given recent weeks, he reflected, pulling his coat closer about him.
Despite the frigidness of the evening he hadn't gone home after work; he longed for fresh air and the breeze after being cooped up inside answering phones and playing on facebook all day, and thus he found himself at the lake.
He briefly entertained the idea of sitting on one of the benches dispersed around the periphery of the lake, but that notion was soon quelled when he realized they were all yellow with pollen as well as damp from the drizzle earlier in the day. That was for the best; movement would keep him warmer than lounging.
The cold made him sluggish, and he made slow laps about the lake, the wind stinging his ears and turning the tips red until he pulled up the hood on his coat.
He was on his second lap when grey clouds skittered across the sky, moving at a quicker pace than he had realized when he'd first spotted them from the distance. Soon they were directly overhead, and fat drops of water began to fall from the sky.
He was on the opposite side of the pond from his car, and he vocally cursed his luck.
"This always happens." He grumbled, tugging at his hood and turning his lazy walk into a mad dash. "Weather doesn't like me round this lake."
