Dreams of Puerto Rico

I love New Hampshire. Truly, summers and falls in the Granite State are exquisite. The scenery is majestic; people here are super. Anyone would be fortunate to call this their home. However, last night, I was reminded of something I miss about western Puerto Rico. I could wax eloquently about the wonderful people, beautiful landscapes, delicious food, vibrant culture–the list is substantial. But, following last night’s golf league, I’ll focus upon the obvious: I miss the weather. From January through March, I play a lot of golf (admittedly not Tigeresque golf) at the Punta Borinquen course, in Aguadilla. This is the same course made famous by former president Dwight “Ike” Eisenhauer, who loved the course so much, he kept a mini White House on the premises. In keeping with the theme of this post, I’ll eschew a description of the Punta Borinquen course. Instead, let’s focus on the aforementioned weather. Mornings in Puerto Rico are to live for (dying in such a setting would be senseless). Temperatures are in the mid-70s, the skies are partly cloudy, and winds are steady and cooling. 

I haven’t been in Puerto Rico for nearly two months. So, one may wonder why–as a resident of the best state in the Union–I’m in a nostalgic mood about the tropics this morning. On Tuesday evening, my golf partners and I experienced an evening of springtime golf in New Hampshire. Dark clouds and light rain greeted our tee time. The temperature was a hardy 52, then began to drop . . . precipitously. By the time we finished playing, I’d nearly forgotten why I was out there (those of you who have played golf with me might not find this difficult to believe). At the end of the round, I decided to compose a memo to the weather gods.

Dear gods (or, perhaps, the Plymouth State Meteorology Department faculty),
The people of New Hampshire have just experienced one of the most miserable winter seasons on record. Is it too much to ask for spring to be warmer than the frozen food aisle in our local supermarket? Please use your influence to give these people a break. The reward–smiles on Granite Staters’ faces–will justify the effort.

Until then, I’ll have to survive on dreams of mornings in Puerto Rico.