Bonnie Bing: I’m not ashamed to admit that I loathe summer
Summer is my least favorite season. There, I said it. I don’t like summer. And every year I like it less.
My friend Cheryl, who lives in Carefree, Arizona, agrees with me. You say, “Well of course she hates summer because where she lives its unbelievably hot. But it’s a dry heat.” Ha! Listen, Bucko, a temp of 119 degrees is hot regardless of how dry it is.
As a kid I loved summer, just lying by the side of a swimming pool on warm concrete that smelled like chlorine, fingertips shriveled up from being in the water so long. That was a long time ago, when my pals and I didn’t worry what we looked like in a swimming suit.
Well, that ship has sailed along with my fondness for summer months. The flowers that looked so pretty in the spring appear so thirsty most of the time. Sometimes the weather is so humid the air feels squishy. Getting in a hot car after it is in the sun gives you a hot seat and brings on a temper surge. No wonder road rage increases in hot weather.
When I had a conversation with two avid fisherman, I had a revelation. No, I’m not going to start fishing, but we talked about ice fishing. Think how surprised they were to find I was the only one who had actually gone ice fishing. Just remembering how cold it was sitting out on the ice that day made the 95 degrees outside more bearable. Sort of.
When you’re really cold it helps to think of a warm fire, right? Try this: As you’re crossing the hot pavement in a parking lot to get in your 100 degree car think of jumping into cold lake water or being out in a blizzard or ice fishing.
The only reason I went to a frozen lake to ice fish was the late Steve Harper, a photographer and the outdoor writer at The Wichita Eagle, told my editor it would be a great for me to experience ice fishing and then write about it.
How tough could it be? I thought we’d be in a tiny shack with a heater, comfy camp chair, some hot coffee and tasty sandwiches. Nope, none of the above.
Steve drilled a hole in the ice, dropped a line in the hole and handed me the fishing rod. I said, “So I just stand here until some fish wants lunch?” He said, “No, you sit here,” as he turned over a bucket.
I had on so many clothes under my dad’s flannel-lined coveralls I looked like the Michelin Man. I was determined to not complain. My feet got cold first. When my nose turned red Steve told me to “think warm.” It worked about as well as the above mentioned method of thinking cool.
Some people say they like summer better than winter because it’s easier to warm up than to cool off.
Maybe it depends on a person’s body thermostat. Some people say they’re hot all the time, some are always cold.
Regardless, I’ll bet the die-hard fans of summer are in the “always cold” category and probably still look good in a swimsuit. The rest of us can rejoice that fall will be here before we know it.