When Summer Sees Fit

           I have only anecdotal support to offer, but for what it’s worth, here’s my take on Summer’s early arrival.  She was down in Key West, where she always winters, and was getting restless.  I mean you can only visit Hemingway’s house so often, and with Summer’s allergy to cats, it turns out one visit was enough.  She’d tried her luck with the boys in Key West, but no one seemed interested.  After one rebuff too many, Summer decided she had had enough; she was heading north, and she didn’t care if she was a month or two early.

            After packing her flouncy dresses and oversized hats, as well as a gallon of sunblock (a girl’s got to look after her skin), she phoned Humidity, who rents a place just down the beach, and told him to pack his bags.

            “I’ll pick you up in 10,” she said a little snappishly.

            Humidity, having just woken from one of those sweat-drenching dreams, was a little groggy. “Are we talking ten hours, or ten days? I’m going to need time to find someone to look after the plants and my goldfish.”

            “I'm talking ten minutes, so get ready.  Pack plenty of those drab outfits you insist on wearing, and meet me on the street. It's time to head north. This place is killin’ me. ”

            After hanging up the phone, she locked her condo and piled her floral suitcases into her bright yellow convertible. Well, she never claimed to be subtle.  She left that for her cousin Spring, with her whispery voice and her hair smelling of cherry blossoms. 

            Driving up the street, she could see Humidity slouched in front of his beach house, wearing his wide-lapelled drip-dry suit and smoking a cigarette.  For a guy who spent most of his time with Summer, he looked startlingly pale.

            “You look awful.”

            “Of course I look awful; I’ve spent my whole life with clammy skin and clogged pores.”

            “Well, get in the car before you start your sob story.  We’ll pick up burgers and soda and then it’s straight through to the border.

            “Tell me we’re at least stopping at the duty free.”

            “Of course we’re stopping.  I’m not a complete lout. Besides, I have no gin for the cottage.”

            They made good time, keeping the top down on the convertible even through the dark hills of Kentucky, and they pulled into Ontario late Thursday night. By Friday at noon, Summer had unpacked her new patio furniture and was sunning her rather ample self on the deck.  Her mere presence had driven the thermometer up to a spectacular 27 degrees.  Not to be outdone, Humidity increased the humidex to a blanket-smothering 34 degrees.

            Summer spent the afternoon sipping on a tall g&t, while tweeting out to her followers: #summerisinfullswing. While one swallow may not a summer make, one tweet can set it in motion. The air was buzzing with news of her arrival. People scrambled to get out their wrinkled shorts and too-small shirts, while in the insect world carloads of mosquitoes zoomed north. By Saturday night, the edges of fields and ponds were humming with mosquito tent-cities, while their tiny barbeques glowed and their guitars twanged around the first campfires of the season.

            While Summer and Humidity partied through the weekend and the insects buzzed, those of us used to crisp morning runs, struggled to breathe.  The final kilometers of my run on Saturday stretched ever longer as my legs grew heavier and heavier.  As I shuffled along, I had a hard time believing I had been racing Boston only a few weeks ago. Later in the day while trying to wash my car, Humidity all but pinned my limbs to my side.  Saturday night the dynamic duo amused themselves with a brief thunderstorm followed by even greater humidity.  Then they stayed up all night playing cards while the rest of us tossed and turned in houses with windows still sealed to keep out Winter’s harsh winds. Sometime in the early morning, Summer and Humidity must have passed out, leaving an early morning haze.  I slipped on my shoes and headed out, trying to take advantage of the overcast sky, but by the halfway point, the clouds cleared, and suddenly Summer shone down on me, while Humidity wrapped me in his awkward embrace.

            Hey, don’t get me wrong, Summer, I am glad to see you, if not your rumpled friend, but I need time to get used to your dazzling heat and flamboyant ways, just a little time.