Yesterday was a humdinger of a day: a whopping 92 degrees in Central Park, beating the old record of 83 set in 1942 (quite before my time). Beaches in and around NYC were packed with pre-season bathers who could only lounge on the sand not go into the surf due to the still frigid waters. While ocean temps are expected to remain in the 40s for several more weeks, summer appears to be chomping at the bit for its return engagement.
Even for New York, where summers could be exceptionally brutal, the high yesterday was even higher than for an average July day: usually in the mid-80s. However, I’m convinced that over the past ten to twenty years, spring has become less a season and is now merely a sort of ignition point for summer; this goes as well for autumn. These days, we experience either a Baked or Frosted Big Apple.
My wife and I, unprepared as our neighbors for this April heat wave, felt as though we had gone to sleep on the heels of winter and woke up in the depths of summer. Fans and air conditioners, aroused from their winter hibernation, were sluggish and needed to be dusted through and further through to rouse them from their slumbers. It felt like only yesterday when I was putting up our Christmas tree and like only a few hours ago when I was taking it down.
For the three or four readers still interested in this post: While tomorrow is expected to bring more of the same, weather prognosticators are saying that Wednesday will be cooler and that by Thursday temperatures will level off in the 70s, dropping to the 60s by the end of the week.