Nothing says "Spring" like the smell of kerosene, charcoal and sausage

Hi Greg,

I don't believe we've met, but I am married to Carrie's cousin Brooke.

I'm from California, and I've been living in New England for over six years now.  To this day I still have friends and family asking me questions like, "So do you like it back there (i.e. When are you moving back)?" and more often, "How can you stand the weather back there?"  The weather question in particular always gets me.  On one hand I am annoyed that it is all people think about, knowing that Boston has so much more to offer than just varying weather conditions.  On the other hand, it is in some ways analogous to what I love about life in general...

After having lived in Southern California for seven years, I can certainly understand why people wish they could go to the beach in February.  I, however, really love the change in seasons, and can't even imagine living without that ever again.  It evokes many more feelings in me than having a standard 75 degree temperature and sunlight throughout most of the year.  While Brooke hates it, I actually enjoy when the biting winter cold and snow start to come around.  And what I love even more is the first week in April when I begin to realize that it is all going away soon :)

I was sitting on my couch last night and turned on the Red Sox game (a day game in Oakland being replayed on NESN), and it all of a sudden hit me that the home opener is only several days away.  And, despite the rain today, I heard it is supposed to be sunny and in the high fifties this weekend!  Now, by Southern California standards, that's freezing, but I will likely be wearing shorts for the first time on Saturday (assuming the forecast doesn't drastically change in the next few hours, which it is apt to do).  I am so excited to breathe in refreshing spring air, smell a few neighborhood grills lighting up (hence the title of this post), and see my entire street turn green as the leaves fill in around the bare branches.

I'll be thinking of you in two weeks as I settle into my grandstand seat with a beer and watch a few well-hit balls fly over the Monster.

Get better.

Jeff Larimer