bare knees

Today was the first day I dared venture forward in a skirt without my wool tights on. It's a special feeling when the weather hits a temperature that also makes it possible to leave the gloves at home. Of course here at this time of year, a spring skirt still has to be paired with a sensible top like a cashmere turtleneck and high boots, but the frisky feeling of wind on those millimeters of knee-skin makes it finally feel like spring. The lawn outside the door has put on the palest of green hues in spots, and in the gardens all along the street, clusters of crocuses and tiny blue star-shaped flowers are making their way forth among the mossy rocks in the gardens. It's always like this- I forget that growing things ever existed and then all at once they're everywhere- fattening buds on trees, grass growing in the sidewalk cracks, and green shoots everywhere.

The season's still very tentative though- I was the only one baring knees on Laugavegur, and the visitors are all still be-hatted and hooded (of course, they often are in July too). It's not so cold though, really. I think almost 50 degrees f is splendid skirt weather, even if there is no sun. It's really almost as good as it gets here. Today the temperature was moderated by a zippy wind, keeping it from being too tropically balmyy. 35mph doesn't seem like much but it's enough to make wearing a gauzy skirt a bit thrilling. It was worth it though for that
feeling that maybe, just maybe there will be a few moments of bare-arm weather sometime in a few months.