You can tell a storm is coming when cows huddle up together. The faster a cricket chirps, the hotter the day will be. The louder you can hear the train whistle in the distance, the better the weather. Or so my grandmother, and the worn pages of her Farmer's Almanac, insists.
The signs that spring is upon us — albeit not mere superstitions — are all around me.
First: local eating establishments are trying their darndest to get rid of soup that will soon be overlooked in favor of froyo and fried oreos. Yesterday, Gia was peddling the last of three different lentil stews. The same garlic-roasted potato soup has been on special at Metro for weeks now. And Cream & Sugar was literally giving their stock away — a free cup of soup with every drink purchase.
Second: Green everywhere. And I’m not even talking about the budding West Philly flora. Philadelphia is not to be outdone by Chicago, Boston or Savannah in it’s celebration of St. Patrick. The patron saint of Irish Catholics, alcoholic WASPs and engineers (but actually, I suspect SEAS was the least represented school at Blarney yesterday), St. Patty brings out the fratty and the happy on campus. And for those of us trapped indoors with publishing deadlines, there were weekend (and pre-weekend “warm-up”) celebrations a-plenty to keep Philly seeing green.
Third: I cannot pay attention to work to save my life. With each degree the temperature rises, I can feel the Seasonal Affective Disorder lifting and homework, tests and papers slipping to the back burner. The elevated temperature has me busy dreaming of flip flops and long lazy days, road trips and sun dresses.
Maybe it’s a little early for full blown spring fever — weather.com (aka the Bible) predicts a dip back into the 50s early next week. So meanwhile, thank god we have Street. In this week's issue, we have a spring break recap from Bobby V. (p. 18), the best local places to become a craft wizard (p. 16), a guide to this season's sneaks (p. 5) and a feature on the oldest gay bookstore in the country (p. 10). Sit back, relax and read up; it's obvious that nature sure wants you to.
'till next week, SB