Spring is Mama Nature's menopause. At least here on the Mexican beach.
Hot flashes. Cold flashes. Constantly changing.
And never with any warning.
This winter has been pleasantly cool. Long pant, jacket cool. Never lower than the 60s. But we beach people are weather sissies -- we cannot sleep with anything separating our skin from the night's warmth.
The cool is a thing of the past -- as of this week. I have no weather data. But the days are warming. And the nights are more humid. It is fan time.
Within a month I will be longing for the cool.
But not yet. There is still time to stretch out in the garden hammock. To watch the birds trim the bushes of errant insects. To indulge in my role as the lazing author.
Dorothy Collins sings in the living room -- competing with my neighbor's mariachi tape. Dorothy is holding her own. Even though she is telling us she is "Losing My Mind." I feel her pain.
She sings at my request. For some reason, I associate the song with my year in Greece. Auditioning young women to be the next ex-Mrs. Cotton.
But that was a callow fellow I no longer know. The guy in the hammock has enough spins on his odometer to fully appreciate that life sometimes leaves us "standing in the middle of the floor."
And, sometimes, it is A-OK to just stand there -- knowing fully well that you are not losing your mind.
Like Mother Nature, we will go hot and cold. And life's cycle will continue to roll.