Summer’s Heat and the Changing Seasons

I was laying in the hot bed last night, trying to decide whether the heat is better or worse than the cold. Lawn mowing versus snow shoveling is one piece of it. Cars that have sat out in the weather, another. I’m not sure what the final answer is. It seems we’re always wishing for the opposite season. As they shift, from summer’s verdant greens to autumn’s dazzling golds to winter’s blazing whites to spring’s riotous rainbow of color, I hear myself say, again and again, that what I do like is the changing of the seasons. I appreciate that we live in a temperate climate where the world will always look completely different six months from now.

I believe that having to live with one kind of weather–any kind of weather–would bore me to tears. There is the sense of hope when the first snowdrops and crocus poke out their heads. There is the satisfaction that comes from harvesting fruit from the backyard. There is the breathtaking beauty of our towering maple dressed in October’s red robes. There is even some love for the first, pure snow that follows.

So, as bitterly as I may complain about the heat, what keeps me going is the knowledge that in three months there will be the first threat of frost. It will be time to replace the car’s sunshade with a snowbrush. I’ll need to put away the shorts and pull out the sweaters. And so on and so on and so on.

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