It's now officially summer.
The weather nerds call it June solstice — when the sun is in its most northern position directly over the Tropic of Cancer.
While I realize most people love the summer and all it offers, I am not one of them. I am a summer hater. I don’t know if there’s an SHA (Summer Haters Anonymous) group, but maybe I should start one. I can’t be the only one.
According to the calendar, summer in the Eastern Hemisphere begins June 21 and ends Sept. 22.
I think this is fake news.
From personal observation, including frizzy hair and sweaty pits, summer begins in late April and usually lasts until the last crunchy bug dies in mid-November.
Now, I agree, so far we have only had a couple of what I will call heatwaves, but when they came, they came with a vengeance.
To my way of thinking, the seasons have really changed. It's like winter lasts six months… summer five months… and spring and fall split up the one measly left-over month. Well, it seems that way to me anyway.
I know it seems a waste for me to live in a four-season country when I really only appreciate two, but such is my lot in life.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac is predicting a colder summer, but only by a degree or two. Managing editor Jack Burnett expects the summer to be cooler and drier than a normal summer, but not by much. He calls this “good news for farmers, ranchers, hikes, gardeners, and vacationers”.
We have all noticed the weather changing – climate change and all.
Burnett says: “The way weather works now is that it tends to come in stretches. We have droughts and then rainy periods.”
Lately, it seems like the weather can’t really make up its mind. It will give us sun, wind and rain all in the same day.
Here’s my ugly truth about summer. It makes people sweat. This may be my least favourite thing to do. Call it glowing or glistening all you like, but it makes me feel like a clam. When you sweat from your scalp, your hair gets all wet and flat, and no amount of product is going to make you look any less than a damp dog.
There is not enough talcum powder in the world to ease the chafe. It can be located under the boobs, behind the knees and, yes, between the thighs. Nobody wants to think about that, but it's hard to ignore. If you see someone walking like a cowboy whose horse just left it's because things are rubbing.
By the time you slather on the appropriate level of sunscreen, the rest of my makeup just slides off giving me a whiter shade of pale. I do not look dewy, I look a wet noodle.
As far as eating outside, people think there’s something wrong with you if you don’t want to balance a picnic lunch on a paper plate on your knee while avoiding biting bugs. How many flies do I have to fish out of my beverage before I can call “uncle”?
If you move to the shade, you seem like a spoiled sport.
I had a friend who also hated the summer and just made it known to all of her friends and relatives that she doesn’t eat outdoors. And she didn’t. She would be dining in an enclosed patio while everyone else fought off dive-bombing mosquitoes. Oh, to have her courage!
I don’t want to be a downer to your outdoorsy fun, so I will click” like” on all your perspiration-filled jaunts to amusement parks, mountain tops and camping trips.
But, I won’t mean it. Secretly, I’ll be happy in my super-chilled home covered in a blanket drinking hot coffee and raising my mug to Wills Carrier, the creator of the air-conditioner, and waiting impatiently for fall. All four glorious days of it!
