I'm just gonna go ahead and say it, even if everybody thinks I'm weird: I've had enough summer now, and I'm ready for autumn to arrive. There.
I've never been a summer-lover. In spite of school being out, swimming, camp, vacations, beach time, and all else it might involve, I dislike summer. I loathe its heat. I grew up in central Mississippi, and there's hardly a hotter place -- nor more still, sticky, and humid -- than central Mississippi. Even in Florida you have daily rain storms and beaches nearby and coastal breezes. Had I been reared in a northern clime with ice and mountains of snow, perhaps I'd be more friendly with heat. But I didn't, and I'm not.
Today is the first hot day. Blessed with a late, cool spring, our days and especially evenings have been nice -- highs in the upper 70s or maybe 80s. But this morning we had a rain shower, and now it's just plain muggy. Sticky. Hotter 'n blazes. I walked outside and my sunglasses fogged up. Ugh.
I want candle weather. Sweater weather. Long sleeves, long pants, and no more leg-shaving. Dark evenings when knitting makes sense. Pots of hot tea to warm me because I need warming! Even my favorite movies are cool-weather movies where people don sweaters and scarves, breathing out warm puffs into cold air as they wrap fingers around friendly cups of whatever. My favorite part of The Wind in the Willows is (of course) the snowy, dark visit to Badger's house. I think I need to move to Norway.
Is there anyone else out there who feels this way? I hate to say I'm a summer-hater, but it's almost true. I tolerate it in good company, with good food and excellent music, in a Latin setting. At nighttime. With a breeze off the ocean. Sigh.
If I whine for the next couple of months, forgive me. In summertime, I'm always looking ahead longingly.