Monday was a mid-January dream of a day. A corker. The kind to bottle and savor. All 60 degrees.
The kind that decades ago WBZ radio weatherman Don Kent would have called balmy.
A knuckleball of a day. A looney tune of a day. A sunny tune of a day. A day to dance to.
Swampscott danced and here's how:
A father getting buried in the sand by a 3-year-old son wielding a shingle for a shovel at Fisherman's Beach.
By forgetting lunch and going for a walk but looking at the ice cream shops to see if windows were open three months early.
By forgetting work and going for a walk and smiling for no reason.
By sniffing the sunshine, wagging your tail and barking for no reason.
By serving breakfast at Lincoln's Landing and looking out the window and imagining a bask in the sun.
By skimming the infields at Phillips Park and rooting out weeds.
By wearing shorts and short sleeves and tank tops.
By pushing babies in carriages.
By driving with the windows down.
By walking Lynn Shore Drive.
By rollerskating Lynn Shore Drive.
By driving Lynn Shore Drive.
By facing the sun on a King's Beach bench under the flagpole and contemplating global warming while listening to a big band on headphones.
It was a corker. One to bottle.
A balmy one, Jan. 14, 2013.