It’s the middle of June, in Florida, where the thermogenic ball of fire that blinds us from the sky, is at its peak of mass destruction. Summer. The dreaded, yet celebrated season which children all across the United States long for. Summer provides perfect weather for people who love to garden, play outdoors, or go to the beach; On the other hand, I am struggling to survive this stifling atmosphere.
Where I live, handheld fans are a must have, and air conditioned outlet stores are sacred year round. It’s incredibly easy to get roasted down in Florida. If you want to walk your dog, you better slap on some sunscreen! It’s dangerous to travel outdoors during this time of year. However, sometimes I get in the mood to challenge my love/hate relationship with weather.
I slide out my backdoor in crocs, shorts and a tank top- a typical Floridian look. My skin sizzles and dampens as I walk towards the bank carrying a book. Making it halfway across the yard, I stop and take some warm breaths as the the sweltering air intensifies. Finally, I make it to the bank, with a few breaths to spare. My one arm lifts up a white plastic chair that had tumbled during the last storm, and I sat to face the gorgeous, sparkling view of water. I proceed to open my book, when I notice wet drops landing on the pages. Glancing up, I spot grey clouds, moving just over my house. I start to sigh, knowing my novel will have to wait. I unstick my thighs from the chair, and continue towards my house.
Abruptly, with no warning, water starts plummeting from the sky; the clouds covering every last bit of light. Although I’m thankful my skin isn’t boiling anymore, I cannot say I’m happy with my new book becoming a soggy mess. My legs bring me to the sheltered porch, where I set my book down, and spin around to glare at the rain. Of course, twenty minutes go by and all the rain has cleared, leaving the ravishing view of the lake once again.
I’ve always admired the lavish expanse of views that summer has to offer. Despite the blistering, oven-like temperature, or the unexpected water tantrums that’s rain, summer produces astonishing sceneries that no other season can emit.