How about this weather, huh?
The only thing consistent about New England’s climate is the misery it delivers. Winters are so long and brutal they feel like punishment rather than seasons. Spring is just a wetter version of winter, with its bombogenesis and cursed “wintery mix” and the added insult of sticking around till June. When summer does finally arrive — that glittering time of our imagination, when all our hopes and dreams will be realized — it is a spirit-sapping blast of heat and humidity — like living in oatmeal, like wearing a damp blanket too soon from the dryer.
Rather than complain — or rather, in addition to it — we give you a little celebration of this latest stretch of steam grate heat, and all of Boston’s seasons.