I sprayed and soaked and bleached, but nothing would remove the big, green blob from the front of my favorite white, rip-stop cotton Bermuda shorts. Wouldn’t you know it? Right when the temperatures are inching upward and the snowbirds are gone. This is shorts season, darn it, and I hope this isn’t an indicator of the summer to come.
We don’t hit hurricane season until June, but already I’m watching weather patterns and fretting about evacuations. Water spouts in Briny Breezes and tornados at the Lowe’s in Boynton Beach are not good indicators by my calculation. But until we begin to see Bahamas swallows and hordes of dragonflies in the dunes, it’s much too early to tell in my — completely unscientific — book.
By all of my other unscientific indicators it was an excellent season along the coast: the number of sunburns seen in the crowds along Atlantic Avenue, the nonstop parade of well-attended, successful fundraisers and the frequent visits from friendly Coastal Star readers on their way into (or out of) Colby’s Barbershop next door to the office.
As much as I love the “open the house wide” winter weather and my dear, snowbird friends, May is the month I celebrate the promise of the coming summer. Just recently as the brilliant sunset brushed the ocean clouds with fading peach, there was not another person to be seen along the sand. Paradise. For those of us who stay here braving the summers, this is one of our secret treats — along with a lack of lines at the movie theater and the ability to walk into a restaurant without reservations.
So, as much as I’m dreading the first named storm of hurricane season, I’m ready for summer.
I just need to find another pair of white, rip-stop cotton Bermuda shorts.
— Mary Kate Leming, executive editor
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