Tom Collins.

This is the weather we had today: cooler, noticeably so, but so deeply pleasant all the same. And this sort: I arrive at my 2:20 class to find the entirety of my class outside, asking if we can have class outside. It's cooler today than yesterday, I said. We know, they said. Y'all are all from Maryland or further north, aren't you, I said. Yes, they said. So this is spring, then, I said. Not yesterday. Today. Yes, they said. Something like that. You've about got it.

We had class outside.

And then TMR and I sprint home in time to salvage a wee social engagement we had scheduled having to do with the first Tom Collinses of the season, and yes, friends and fans of warm-weather libation, they were lemony and perfect and excellent and good and the evening held on a little for us down the block there on the CK and JK back and front porches, and it did not really cool off until after we had polished off the quarter-orange-juice jug of Collinses we walked down there with in the failing early spring light. There was yes ice and maraschino cherries and the Collins mix and the sparkly water and oh, even though it is soon enough going to be chilly and then even yes cold, tonight was spring and that was all there is to say about that, except for the lemons and the so-nice breeze.

Today was a long-sleeved oxford shirt and jeans and a happy walk back home.

Fair warning: something coming in. Gorgeous in the morning and gray thereafter—and chilly, come Thursday and the weekend. Probably going to have to close these windows back up for a spell. I'm just saying.