Alexandra Carlsson Tenitskaja: Suddenly it becomes like a horror movie to again wake up to the sun

We are in the most njutiga the time now. Misty mornings with a mild morning light that is so low that one hundred percent will be dazzled, with or without sunglasses.

Everywhere you hear people that let down their scandinavian vinterspända shoulders and lets hear a small ”mm” or ”aah” when they turn the face against the soft light.

for a week, (to my mother's great dismay), despite the fact that it is almost below zero in the morning dew. But you should not believe it will be summer, if not some set speed, as a wise woman once wrote.

We all get on together. You put in the boat and you, who sweeps away the wrinkled and former snowed fimparna from balkonggolvet. You are working to remove the gravel from the sidewalks and you confused have dressed you far too warm for the season and almost melts away in the rush-hour traffic.

to feel anxiety over anything at all, just watch how it blossoms in Kungsträdgården.

But the ice cream with rosévinssmak get stuck enough in the neck if we carefully take up the head out of the sand and look around. It is enough to look away to Motala, about that we shall see the column of smoke that rises out of the forest. It is snustorrt in the grass and soil, and we don't remember when it rained last.

I premiärbadade at the weekend in a rather large lake on the west coast and it was barely cold. The wood anemones, which I am almost one hundred percent sure of always comes first in mid-may has almost bloomed out already.

as a horror film to yet another morning waking up to brilliant sunshine and unnaturally balmy breezes. The gravel under your feet suddenly feels as dry as ökendamm and daffodils droops in the flower beds, though they hardly have struck out.

We remember the summer eldinferno when it burned at over 70 locations in Sweden. We remember all the animals that had to emergency for there was not enough bait for them. We are not there yet. But it starts not good.

that leaves us. And this spring will be for me a quiet hope for heavy rain. Really pissigt heavy rain so that the white sneakersen be destroyed directly, and the umbrella blows apart. I can happily sit inside and complain about the English summer that never will be, just we don't have to eldinferno and mass slaughter.

Perhaps we get a chance to set everything right, SMHI promises rain on Saturday. I will enjoy every last drop.

this is Where my colleague, Hugo Ewald hangs. He is coolast in town.

Alexandra Carlsson Tenitskaja is livereporter and had actually intended to write about how she always sits in the cart on the subway where you get to have with animals. What is a better way to start the morning than to get pat a small poodle?

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