For Everything There is a Season

I’m pretty sure I don’t need Al Gore to tell me that global climate change is actually happening. All I have to do is look in my closet, where what I have always considered the natural order of things has been turned on its head.

We all read the stories, right? An unusually warm winter, almost no snowfall in the east. Retailers dumping winter merchandise at unheard-of discounts. Mom was a beneficiary, scoring a three-quarter length North Face coat at almost 30 percent off, though she only got to wear it once or twice this season.

But when temps reached into the 70s in March, the idea of wearing even my most-favorite sweaters made my skin crawl, so reluctantly, I reached into my closet and opened the seals on my space-saver bags. I felt a pang of regret as I watched the plastic puff up again with air, and I began digging out the blouses and t-shirts I usually retrieve sometime in May.

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