This post is not about bell bottoms and polyester, the Bee Gees and disco.  It’s not about the decade of the ’70s but the temperature of the 70s, a most delightful one to walk in, talk in, be in. 

This spring we’ve had a lot of 50s and 60s, and, recently, some 80s and 90s. I was worried we might skip the 70s altogether … until this week. 

But ah, here it is, the temperature of nothingness, of skin meeting air, of long sleeves or short, of no heat or air conditioning.  The temperature of balmy breezes and wildflowers, of one layer not three. 

It’s the 70s. Bring it on!