To me, summer is the season of my worst depression. The whole world feels more hostile. Everyone seems to work longer hours and be in more of a hurry. The pace of life is hectic and unsustainable. The relentless sun punishes anyone who has to be under its burning rays all day. Everything seems to be burning, from the roof shingles that are hot enough to cook eggs, to the grass which never seems to get enough rain, to the back of my neck, upon which I never seem to apply enough sunscreen. Tempers are shorter - mine especially. The only relief is going swimming or hiding out in the air conditioning. Occasionally a cloud will block the sun and offer a minute of relief. If we are really lucky, we will get a brief rain shower. But the rain moves out, and sunshine and powerful humidity move back in.

It was the longest duration of daylight we will experience all year, meaning the days are now growing shorter. A sign that better times are coming. Painfully slowly, but coming eventually. Three more months before the weather really makes changes for the better. Three more months of hating the sunlight and warmth. Three more months of longing for cloudy, cool days of wearing hooded sweatshirts, enjoying campfires, and hot, hearty meals.

Almost one year ago, I wrote a post similar to this one. Read it here if you'd like. It basically describes how autumn brings back my optimism and lust for life after the bleak days of summer.

But I am apparently a strange character, considering most people seem to enjoy the sunshine, long hours of daylight, and the heat. I don't understand what makes this time of year so enjoyable. Perhaps someday I will. If I didn't have such sentimental attachment and family ties to this area, I would certainly move to a cooler climate. But this is home, so I must take the bad with the good.