The heat in the west coast has been flippant likes the rolling waves of the ocean, it’ll come sometimes in hard thrashes, and other times it comes as a gentle breeze from the seas. Either way, I have a big dislike for summer, I hate the burning sun and the longer hours of daylight. I prefer the shorter days of light, and the nip in the air that tells you that summer is dying.
I always find myself huddling towards the more colder regions, even if that means opening the fridge doors at the local Target store just to get my cold air. Every summer has been fairly unforgiving, although, I know I can tolerate some of it to an extent. I grow weary and tired of the venomous onslaught of heat and humidity that seems to try and coax me to get sunburned outside.
It always seems to go like this every time spring decides to evolve from it’s mere quiet form of flowers and warmth, to a diabolical hell storm of fire and humid debauchery. I hold my mug, eagerly awaiting for the tea to cool down so I can drink it down to at least reminisce for the days of autumn that should come dancing in the next month and half or so. However, until then, I am stuck, sitting at my coffee table glaring at the outside with dismay and how I can’t wear my cozy sweaters and fuzzy slippers.
I enjoy the finer days of rain and clouds with a book or Nook in my hands, a tea cup perched onto the window sill with steam wafting upwards in tendrils. Those are the days I long for when the summer begins to roll in and dry up what was left of the spring’s frolicking. Amazing how a season can make you miss so much for half a year…