Shy Girl Blogs

How do I love/hate thee? Let me count the ways …

Posted on: 05/12/2011

It’s been quite a dry spell lately, blog-wise. I think the problem is that I’m kind of at such a standstill in life right at this moment – waiting to hear about a job, waiting to hear about grad school – that I just don’t have any blog fodder on a daily basis. Plus there’s the whole issue of having things I want to record but not necessarily wanting to share it all with the Internet, heh. I actually broke out the journal this week and wrote by hand, gasp! I’m going to try to overcome this, though. I’ve made a pact with myself to write something every day, whether it’s to share with all you lovely people or just for myself. I’m a much saner person when I write regularly, and I could really use some more sanity. (Ahem. Nobody comment on that.)

But anyway, it’s May. UC has emptied out, which means the population of my town has shrunk by half … or maybe not quite, but it feels that way. I love the first few weeks of summer, when campus is deserted and it feels like town belongs to the locals again. Yesterday I got to thinking about how I suppose summer is really here now, and to my surprise I found myself mentally composing a love letter to summer.

You should know that I loathe hot weather. I hate the feeling of being overheated, I hate humidity and the havoc it wreaks on my poor hair, I hate sweating and the way my clothes stick to me when I do, I hate any temperatures above 80 when all you want to do is run around naked but you can’t because there are people in the world and it would probably be a good idea not to offend their delicate sensibilities.

But something happens to me every year, in what would be spring if southeastern Kentucky was allowed to have spring. (Which we apparently are not. We go from 40 to 80 with barely a day in between to marvel at the fact that we don’t need jackets to go outside. It’s mean.) I find myself entranced by the warmth, loving the heat and the light. While I vastly prefer sweaters and scarves to bathing suits and shorts, I am almost giddy the first time I get to go outside with the smallest amount of bare skin. I am completely besotted with the sun in my eyes, the slight burning of the sun beating down on my arm through the car window.

I love walking in the cool grass with bare feet. I love the early morning, almost too cool for short sleeves yet somehow foreshadowing the heat that will soon burn off the fog. I love sitting outside as the sun goes down, the heat slowly melting away. I love riding in the car with the windows down, sunglasses in place and hair blowing in the wind. I love getting out sleeveless cotton dresses and flip flops – oh, how I love my flip flops. I love pedicures and smooth legs and the smell of sunscreen and aloe. I love the breeze from the ceiling fan cutting through the thick, warm air in my bedroom at night. I love corn on the cob and cucumbers fresh from the garden. I love that first sip of slushy or lick of ice cream on a hot afternoon. I love the smell of fresh-cut grass. I love riding in the bed of the pickup truck. I love watching a summer storm, the lightning and thunder just scary enough to remind us how small we really are. I love the way the sunlight looks shining through the window, and how you can sit outside and watch the sun set at 10 o’clock at night, while the crickets and frogs sing to you. I love the way we sleep more soundly after the draining heat.

So here’s to you, summer. Welcome back. Next week I may curse you, but this week I love you.


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