An Anti-Ode to Summer

Dear John Summer,

I must admit there were good times.  We enjoyed fantastic beach days basking in the sun and jumping ocean waves.  We indulged in barbecues, citrusy summer ales, and frozen desserts.  We spent lazy hours lounging beside the pool, laughing, and making memories with friends and family.

Yes, we did have some fun.  Truth be told, though, I have grown weary of your oppressive heat and humidity.  I long for the reduction in traffic and crowds that signals the end of yet another summer season spent living in a tourist town.  I am ready to trade those citrusy ales for richer Octoberfests, the barbecues for tailgating, and the frozen desserts for hot ciders.  Dearest summer, I realize you have a month to go before your scheduled departure, but I would be forever grateful if you could see fit to leave a bit early.

You see, I suffer from the reverse version of seasonal affective disorder, and I feel you are to blame.  Unlike many, I thrive in the fall and winter months and wilt in the summertime.  (I admit to a certain ambivalence where spring is concerned).  The colder air and shorter days make me come alive.  The long sticky days of summer drain me physically and emotionally.  My sleep is disrupted, and my anxiety crawls out of hibernation.  I find myself fighting depression brought on by days spent inside hiding from temperatures in the upper 90s with heat indexes making it feel well into the 100s.

My creativity is stifled and suffocated by the humidity that wraps itself around me like a hot, wet blanket.  I find myself writing less and less often, drained of energy and enthusiasm.  There are too many days when I never touch my laptop, too many days when my pages stay blank.  You have turned me into a lifeless, limbless pile of couch-surfing discontent.

And so, darling summer, I must tell you the same thing I told spring earlier this year.  You will never be more than a fling for me, a passing attraction.  My heart belongs to another…well, two others if I’m being honest.  My love affair with fall and winter will endure and stand the test of time, and there is nothing you can do to change that.

I ask you to bow out gracefully, to fade to black, and to ride off into one of your magnificent sunsets.  Please try not to take it too hard and know that there are many out there who will be glad to have you.  We just weren’t meant to be…

With fond regards,
Karen

Note:  I hope this tongue-in-cheek letter will help explain why my posts have been less frequent over the past few months.  Tell me, do you flourish in the spring and summer months?  Or do the fall and winter months make you come alive?  What time of year is best for your creativity?  As always, I welcome your thoughts and feedback!