I am a full-on summer person. I don’t know many people who aren’t, but there are a few out there. Mostly we all want to feel warm, go sock-less, and have a kiss of sun on our skin. Unfortunately for those who live in Canada, it’s all too brief. Even more brief if you live in certain parts.
I grew up in southern Ontario where summer starts early and stays on fairly long. It’s a May to October kinda thing, and for Canada, that’s not too shabby. Plus, it’s hot, really hot and humid. As a result, you can grow a lot of things, including amazing tomatoes and peaches. So I come by my love of summer rather honestly. It’s also why I leave Canada; to get a proper and extended summer which I never get where I live.
This is the first year in a decade where August in Provence has not quite measured up. The shock of it is overwhelming. My first 12 days here were fairly standard, with more humidity than normal and the threat of thunder fairly often. It was almost tropical. But the sun shone all days at some point and it was what I consider, hot (it has to be over 30 degrees Celsius for me to enlist this particular adjective.) Unfortunately, since Jason arrived, the temps have cooled on certain days, the clouds have arrived on occasion, along with the Mistral. We’ve muddled through, it’s still much warmer than back home, but it’s not what we expected based on our experience. I guess you have to expect less than perfect once every decade…
The excellent news? There are still lots of peaches and tomatoes to be had, some from our friend’s own garden. Figs are still able to be plucked right from the tree and the blue sky is still stunningly blue. But as we enter the dreaded month of (gulp) September, I start to get a queasy feeling in my stomach. How did the time go so fast, when the winter months drag on for an eternity? What is up with that?
The solution is living somewhere that never has winter. I’ve been working on it, with no definite answer in sight yet. But I won’t give up. I hate socks too much.