Summer loving

I know I'm in the supreme minority here, but I've always liked summer least. Both spring and fall are absolutely glorious for the same reason... everything is about transition and change. Every flower, every leaf, every new thing grown or harvested is effortlessly hopeful, endlessly morphing, consistently effervescent. It's absolutely intoxicating. And winter, even with it's bad reputation, is subtle, romantic, restorative, soothing, mysterious. There's no knowing what is happening under the snow, only that something is happening. It's lovely.

But Summer is just there. It's sweaty, stifling, stagnant. It just sits on your skin. There is no mystery, no change, it is just there until it's not anymore.

But I will say, in all fairness, that Brooklyn is helping me change my mind.