One of the things I love about living in Western Maryland is the change of seasons.  I enjoy the changing colors of the leaves in the fall, the cold snap on my face in winter, and the greening and promise of spring.  Unfortunately, I have to take the seasons as a package deal, so I must also put up with the stifling heat of summer (even if it’s only for a few months).

Now, there are those I know that absolutely love the summer heat.  They can’t get enough of it.  Folks who know me also know that I used to live in Florida (the “Sunshine State”), and quite often they’ll say “you must have loved all of that warm weather.”  The sunshine was nice, to be sure – as long as you didn’t mind the endless days of 95+ degree heat, 95+ percent humidity, and oh, yeah – hurricanes.  The joke in Florida was always that there were only three seasons – early summer, late summer, and next summer.  The heat came on in late March and didn’t subside until late November.  There’s nothing quite like slathering on mosquito repellent to go “Trick-or-Treating” with your kids, burning your hands on the car steering wheel (after it has been literally baking in the sun), or sweating through your shirt on a simple trip to the end of the driveway to retrieve the daily letters from the mailbox.  Good times.

So, as you can tell, I’m not a big fan of the relentless daily heat cycle we’re currently enduring.  Let’s face it, there’s only so much clothing I can take off before law enforcement becomes involved, and with temperatures soaring to the mid-90’s here recently, little to no wind, and little to no rain, I find myself holed up in the house with the blinds drawn like some celebrity trying to avoid the paparazzi.

The weather gurus list my area as “abnormally dry”, which is kind of like saying having explosive diarrhea is “mildly uncomfortable”.  We normally average about 3.69 inches of rain in June, and this past month we only received 1.69 inches.  I’m trudging down to the garden plot (in my local community garden) every day and dumping upwards of thirty gallons of water per visit on my struggling plants, just to keep them from burning up.  The leaves on the corn in farmer’s fields are rolling up (a sure sign that its dry), and the only good thing that’s come out of all of this so far is that I haven’t had to mow my grass in a month.  Is the sound of dry straw crinkling underfoot and hues of yellow the normal color of a lawn in early July?  I didn’t think so, either.

Too bad they’ve cancelled the local carnival this year (due to the pandemic).  If there’s any way to ensure we get a daily thunderstorm that borders on the biblical, it’s to schedule the volunteer fire company’s annual carnival.   Without fail, the smell of French fries, cotton candy, and carnie sweat would normally bring on downpours that have me on the lookout for animals gathering in pairs next to boat docks along the Potomac River. Thanks, COVID-19.

However, I’m a patient man.  I’ll suck it up and soldier on through July and August.  Thankfully, October will be here before we know it (my favorite month), and I’ll once again revel in cool breezes, open windows, and layered clothing. 

Bring it on, fall – I’m patiently waiting for you.