One thing I've learned about living in Europe is this: don't believe the weather report. Ever. My husband planned an overnight Alpine tour with the kids and in-laws. Normally, I'd be pumped to go hiking. But the forecast is incongruent with what I see outside my window.
I've been waiting for summer since it got chilly in June (May was hot). I know it's here somewhere. Through the rain-drenched sky, I think I smell the sun.
My husband has romantic visions of plodding children with wide grins amidst the flowered meadows, cows lowing in the background. It's raining, people. So I'll bite my tongue and pray for a miracle while clutching the collar of my fleece sweater in July...
