Monday, June 08, 2009

Summer


I didn’t always hate summer. No, really, I didn’t. When I was a child I obviously loved it because school was out. But even then, I didn’t have this intense hatred of it that I have now. We moved to Texas when I was 8 years old. Before that, in Iowa, I was outside almost every day in the summer that I can remember. My best friend Barbara and I played in the woods all day, running along paths, carefully negotiating fallen logs over streams; lost in worlds of Star Trek, Batman and Dark Shadows. Staying inside and playing was the exception. My mother would buy me old prom dresses at garage sales and Barb and I would wear them while climbing trees! I can remember a typical summer day – starting out in the morning with Barb, stopping a few houses down to eat some sort of vine thing that hung from a grape(?) vine; then a the house next to that, where wild rhubarb grew under the bushes. In that same yard was a cherry tree and the people that lived there would let us climb it and eat cherries. Yeah, that was my favorite part. Then off to Barb’s where there was this tree (or very sturdy bush – but it was tall) in which we could eat these purple/bluish berries – I know this because the bottom of the gowns would be stained. Bike rides up to the corner grocery store, with a stop along the way at some elderly couple’s home – we didn’t know them – where they would give us a dime each to buy a candy bar. And mom always wondered why I wasn’t hungry. LOL We lived in a old four-square home built sometime in the mid to late 19th century – the street was done in red bricks. It was a 3 story house (remember, in the North, attics and basements are full levels – at least the basements always were. Not counting the basement in the stories though because it was underground) and I have absolutely no memory of window units, so we didn’t have a/c.

But on to Texas. My friend Karen wasn’t the tomboy that Barbara had been, but we did spend time outside riding bikes, walking to the pool. Again, no hatred of the heat – we would even play in the attic during the day! And it wasn’t until a few years after we moved that we got central a/c – until then, we had two window units and that was all. But it didn’t bother me – and I’m not just talking about asthmatically – IT DIDN’T BOTHER ME! Today, I can’t stand to be outside in the summer time unless I’m in a pool. I absolutely abhor the temps and my house reflects it – curtains and blinds are closed against the sun; no, against the heat. I have no problem with the sun at all – in fact, in the winter time my curtains are open, letting the light in; it’s only the summer heat that keeps my windows covered.

I don’t know what changed that – all I know is that the next few months are going to be absolutely miserable to me, especially now that asthma has taken over my life. I’m already longing for the temps of late autumn and I mean late autumn. My absolute highest tolerance for heat might be a day of 80, but normally its 75 tops!

Can someone please tell me why I still live in Texas?

4 comments:

Bebo said...

I used to love summer too - gardening, camping, hiking, scuba...

Then asthma & HOT FLASHES interrupted my life...

Susan said...

My love of summer has disappeared too. I just can't pinpoint exactly when it happened.

Brandy said...

I don't know that I ever liked summer as much as most kids. I was a bookwork when I was young and was content reading whether it was inside or out. Now? I can't handle the heat and humidity. It not only drains me but makes me sick. However, one bright spot in summer for me now is that I give the kids the summer off from homeschooling so that means I get the summer off, too. *G*

catslady said...

I have to beg to differ here but that's because I live in PA and we don't usually get the horrid humidity and high temps but in my defense - we do get horrible winters and driving on ice and shoveling and icy cold is the pits. I imagine you stay because of friends and family but it would be tempting to move to a nice temperate spot if there is such a thing.