A Borrowed Day of Spring

It’s only a few days before summer makes her official entrance, and New Orleans, normally unapologetic about the heat. has decided to pause.

This time of year usually arrives loud and heavy. Ninety‑something degrees by noon. Humidity that clings. Air thick enough to lean against. But today?

I’m on the porch in the early afternoon. On purpose.

There’s a soft breeze moving through like it knows it’s welcome. Cars rush past, steady and indifferent. Birds carry on their conversations, bold enough to tease the cat, who looks just as confused as I feel that we’re all out here at this hour.

I checked the thermometer. 78 degrees.

I laughed out loud.

This feels like late March. Or one of those rare October afternoons that arrives as a gift instead of a forecast. The sky has that wide, honest blue. nothing threatening, nothing pressing. Just space.

Moments like this remind me that nature doesn’t always follow our expectations. Sometimes she bends the season just enough to let us breathe before the next shift. A small mercy. A quiet kindness.

I’m grateful for these last borrowed days of spring, this gentle handoff before summer turns the volume back up.

If you haven’t been outside yet, consider this a nudge. Find a porch. A step. A patch of shade. Sit for a minute longer than you planned.

As for me. I think this day deserves a glass of lemonade.

Some moments ask to be noticed.
This one did.