The First Thursday in May

Wisconsin is like New York in that there are only three perfect days per year, three days when it’s cool and calm through the night and you can sleep with the window open, three days when the sun peeks over the horizon to illuminate blooming flowers or freshly cut grass, three days when there’s only a gentle breeze and a temperature so mild you can wear shorts or pants or a sweater or a tee shirt or a jacket or a dress and be perfect, perfectly fine.

Each like a cherry atop the tiniest sundae, we’re down to two.