Stop Whining About Summer

Recently, I have seen a number of posts on the Internet in which people whine about the end of summer, as if it will never come back. Don’t worry. Come June 21, 2011 at 1:16 p.m. EDT, it will return with plenty of 90+-degree days to keep you happily dehydrated. It’s been great, but now it’s done. Get over it.

Don’t get me wrong: I like the long, sunny days of summer, but heat at this point in my life is redundant. I generate enough of my own. Give me autumn with its brisk temperatures and bright confetti leaves crunching under my feet. My neighbors’ wood-burning stoves scent the air with pyro-maniacal perfume and the howling winds outside make my toasty home feel delightfully cozy.

Autumn marks the harvest, and with it, some rich holiday traditions. First, there's Halloween, which allows us to revisit our childhood. Then there's Thanksgiving, a wonderful nondenominational event that reunites families—albeit for one precious day. They both revolve around my favorite pastime of all—food.

When I pull out my cool weather clothes and pack up my summer duds, it feels like I suddenly have a whole new wardrobe. Turtle neck shirts, slacks and boots are a welcome and comfortable change. Yes, I like summer apparel, but cool weather clothes cover up flaws that their warm weather counterparts leave exposed. And who could be sorry to see humid, bad-hair days replaced by dryer air that eliminates the unisex Einstein look?

I recognize that some people may not live in parts of the country where the seasons change. There’s certainly nothing wrong with the year-round agreeable temperatures of, say, San Diego. Been there; loved it. But I grew up where there are four seasons and I would become bored if they didn’t change every three months. Maybe this is a sign of meteorological Attention Deficit Disorder, but I welcome the changes in weather, landscape and traditions as they unfold.

Now it is autumn’s turn. So grab your fall jacket, warm up some cider and pumpkin pie—and stop mourning the death of summer! It ain’t dead; it’s just passed out from the heat.