This is the Mary Poppins time of year in Melaque.
The days are clear and warm. Barely breaking the 80s ceiling. And with humidity low enough the temperature feels lower.
The nights? They are restfully cool. Regularly dipping into the 60s. Cool enough that I need a blanket to keep warm.
This morning I wished that I had not given away my bathrobe. The terrycloth one. The robe that warmed me over the years in Salem after exiting my hot tub.
After breakfast with a friend visiting from the mountains and a quick church board meeting, I sauntered around the edge of the laguna. Even the resurrection of the dreaded water hyacinth didn't destroy the mood.
How could it? With the purple blooms. And the floating bunch of tule grass -- disguised as Dr. Dolittle's Sea-Star. Any day that includes me smiling at water hyacinth is a good day indeed.
I missed most of this remarkable season while trying to get my house on the market. And I will miss more when I head north at the end of this month to finalize the sale.
My intention was to fly during the first week of March. But the migration of tourists starts that week. Getting a seat is like trying to buy a ticket on the last plane to Lisbon -- at least, without letters to transit signed by General de Gaulle.
But that is almost three weeks away.
On a day like this, planning is a waste of time.
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