As if someone left the celestial oven on full blast, Moscow braces for a week where thermometers might just gasp at +30°C. The air will hang thick with the scent of sun-scorched asphalt, while the parched earth whispers of peat fires—those old, smoldering specters of drought. Meanwhile, St. Petersburg, ever the moody sibling, wraps itself in a damp shroud of drizzle and +19°C melancholy.
From Monday to Friday, the capital will roast like a skewer over coals, with daytime highs clawing at +29°C—enough to make even shadows seek shade. By Thursday, the mercury might stage a mutiny, breaching +30°C in some districts. Nights offer little reprieve, dipping only to +11–16°C, as if the city exhales heat reluctantly.
Come weekend, a capricious cold front sweeps in, dragging temperatures down to a "chilly" +16–20°C by day. Western suburbs might even shiver at +7°C overnight—nature’s ironic punchline after days of swelter. Winds, initially lazy southern drifts, will sharpen to 12 m/s gusts, scattering embers and frayed nerves alike.
Up north, the weather charts read like a maritime elegy: clouds huddle low, and rain falls in fitful bursts. Daytime highs cling to +19–24°C, while nights hover at +10–13°C—perfect for trench coats and existential musings. By Sunday, a grudging sun might emerge, nudging thermometers to +20°C, as if apologizing for the week’s gloom.
The past whispers warnings: in 2007, Moscow’s late May became a furnace, peaking at +33.2°C, while 1891 still holds the record for the 26th. Yet history also recalls 1895, when May ended with a frosty -2.3°C—proof that the skies here play no favorites.
Petersburg, too, has danced with extremes: +31°C in 1958, and a bone-chilling -2°C in 1881. This week won’t rewrite those ledgers, but it’ll flirt with their edges—a reminder that climate, like memory, is fickle.
