Historically, summer has certain characteristics that carry over from year to year. American kids don’t go to school, for one. Tourists tour. And it’s supposed to be hot outside. This year, I’ve seen the campers, the out-of-state license plates. But I haven’t felt the heat.

In Wyoming, where it snows six to eight months a year, it’s imperative for my well being that I get good and hot for a few months. The first four years I was living here, it routinely hit 100. One hundred degrees of lovely dry heat. It worked like a charm!  It got so hot for so long that I was excited for it to get cold again.

Here’s the rub: Without a decent dose of mind-melting heat, how am I supposed to be grateful for freezing temperatures to return?  This year I am seriously lacking the will to get through the winter.

I know it’s been similar all over the country. My friends back home tell me about breezy days that should be sweltering. It’s not all bad, not having summer. But it’s not all good, waiting for the leaves to fall off the trees again when I only got to wear shorts twice, either. Maybe August will bring those third-degree sunburns I’m craving….