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(Inspired by an entry from Seanan_Mcguire.)

I love summer, here in the land of air conditioners, college football training, ice cream from the store, and chlorinated swimming pools. I'll miss the "girls in their summer clothes", as Bruce Springsteen says. Then there were the childhood days spent at St. Augustine, Florida, with my cousins, full of tides, sunburns, and seashells found.

Summer in Alabama isn't for the weak. It's blasting-hot sun, lethal to some, so intense that I once dreamed an entire fantasy novel of solar-powered Egyptian gods up between June and August while taking law school classes. I like how just walking outside raises your pulse and makes you reach for the sunglasses, the way that the rays would vaporize you if you let them. But in the land of sweet ice tea, we cope and eat barbecue, grilled meat, fresh produce from the street markets.

Fall is nice. It has October, my favorite holiday of ghost stories, spooky movies on television, and gruesome decorations. It's a solitary holiday for me, though. November and Thanksgiving will be when family comes together.

Winter has its charms too, shuddering cold and bleak bareness that makes me want to drive a stake through its heart, killing the vampire who sucks the heat from my bones and won't let me go. No, I'm no fan of winter's charms. But there's an elemental purity in surviving it.

Spring is a beautiful girl trying on new clothes for the first time. Who doesn't like welcoming her? After the winter, she's a cheerful phoenix in green, life reborn from chilly ashes. 

But give me summer, always, the heat and fire and life, that shout out in light white to the world. Give me something to dream about, to treasure through the winter.


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March 2012

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