It’s official (at least Radio-Free-Daglan official): We are now in summer. In April.
We know this because the digital thermometer on the car’s instrument panel hit 30 degrees this afternoon as we drove over the hill separating St Cybranet from Cénac. And when we reached Cénac, the reading on the pharmacie sign was 32 degrees. (For Fahrenheit-based readers, and you know who you are, 30 degrees is a toasty 86 F.)
We’re not complaining. Although my wife did point out that it seems strange to see the purple irises in one of our neighbour’s gardens. Isn’t that supposed to be a spring flower?
Tomorrow, we’re thinking, it’s time for a long bike ride.