There is a misty rain outside. The first day of this type weather I’ve seen since summer decided to exhale it’s warm breath upon this lonely peninsula. The trees are motionless but still of a vibrant green, though the grass is patchy and brown in places, only healthy along lines that follow the underground tubes that spider-leg north from the house. The house is empty aside from myself and the dogs that have been anxiously awaiting everyone’s return, looking out the window and whimpering at every sound in hopes that the next vehicle is that of their masters'. Everything is quiet now in this cluttered home with the only exception being the fans with their colorless, ominous, soft breathing.

Summer has almost come to a close; I can feel it. My emotions have painted with all the spectrum but more so with one or two favored colors these three months. Mostly greens and blues and happy colors that are warm and inviting. I’m afraid of what the next 6 months will paint. I find myself lingering on that, almost in preparation for the dramatic change that humid-cold/hot summer climates entail. I missed one and a half winters in my journeys along the southern most regions of the country, mostly the gulf coast in naples which at worst got down to a chilly 60 degrees. Though, I might add, that after months and months of 95+ degree weather, 60 does feel rather brisk. Now I drive my winding road at night, to the corner to get cigarettes, with the windows down in my very worn out, humble vehicle. Fifty five degree breezes coming through the trees and off the river have never felt so good. But this is summer. And it’s still a 55 degree breeze. A 55 degree breeze that is the ‘low’ for the day. Soon it will be the ‘high’ and the low will be well below freezing. The river will freeze, the windows of my little car will ice in the mornings and the blades of grass out front will be frosted well into afternoon until the sun has given all that it can for the two warmest hours of the day and from there, dies, only for the frost to catch up again. I’ll see my breath in the air and it will remind me of my childhood when my brothers and I would pretend we were smoking cigarettes. Funny how I do smoke now. I would have never imagined doing it for real.

And then for the tundra. Mid-December until Early April will be the months I dread the most. The months that make your balls climb close to your body with their scrotum as tight as tanned leather. Shivering uncontrollably with teeth chattering. Inhuman conditions that often pose the question “why had our naked-aped ancestors ever considered venturing into such a climate? Especially when there are places like Costa Rica and the northern extremities of the Baja Peninsula.” Places where you could where no skins. Places where you could be as naked as the day you were born and never know the discontent of 7ft high drifts of snow.

Though there are three good things that I can think of off the top of my head that I would consider somewhat positive outcomes to having drastic seasons. 1. Its a good divider of time and it’s easier to place time frames in your life when it’s separated by seasons. My memories of southern florida all blend into one unified, sweaty memory. 2. It brings people close together because if you’re not doing something aerobic outside, it’s just too damn cold to be out. Everybody comes indoors to drink, play, have symposiums of sorts…and try to stay warm with company, cheers and fireplaces. 3. Looking outside after an ice storm and looking at the trees that are encased in glass seems almost too beautiful to be reality.

So I don’t know what this entry is really supposed to be. I guess I’m just letting stuff out. I’ll close.