Why I Hate Summer

I am thought of as strange because I ache for the long, cold nights autumn and winter bring. I was cursed with pores that don't "glow" as a proper lady's should - I sweat. The heat makes my hair frizzy, and humidity flattens it, so my hair spends the entire summer trapped in a tight clip or ponytail lest it explode in a grenade of confusion and hurt someone.

Cuddling up in a soft warm blanket to warm up during the winter is infinitely more comfortable than trying to cool back down again after a day spent pulling sharp weeds. Don't get me started on trying to cuddle up with anyone outside of a swimming pool during the heat. Yes, I would love to stick to you while I am expressing my fondness for you.

During summer, daylight hangs around as long as possible, bringing with it mosquitoes, gnats, and any number of other annoying diurnal multi-legged creatures out for my various bodily liquids. I don't like too much sunlight. I like to be able to see the stars and the moon. I like the restful times. I love the cool, clear way sounds carry over a field full of snow at night.

But none of this expresses my dislike for summer like the issue of the lightning bug.

The problem isn't that I hate the creatures. I love lightning bugs (or fireflies, to some of you). There is such an absolute joy palpable in an early summer evening when suddenly, a place as plain and boring as your lawn becomes a haven for dancing, twirling, flashing golden-green lights. Some nights, there are so many of them that you can find huge groups of them floating up and lighting for exactly the same amount of time, "turning on and off" at the exact same moments as all of their neighbors. It is beautiful synchronization and it fills my whole heart up. All of these little creatures putting on a show for others, looking for others so they can make more little creatures that will put the same show on for me next summer. Sitting outside on the grass, observing this dance of silent light, becomes such a wonderful experience that I can feel myself forgiving the rest of summer for being so long and horrible.

But something happens as summer moves on. Fewer and fewer lightning bugs come out. They mate, they lay their eggs, and die in a matter of weeks.

I can't even sit outside at this time of year. Worse than no lightning bugs at all is seeing the last lonely male of the season, moving what seems to be more slowly than usual. This one late creature, looking for a partner, he does his dance, he puts on his show, and nobody sees him but me. I try to appreciate it, but the feeling is soured by knowing I am helping nothing. Nobody answers him, he just tries his best for all of the nights or hours he has left. Maybe I find his corpse on my patio or on an outside window sill.

I hate summer.