I always considered myself something of a chameleon. I had always been able to blend into whatever environment I found myself. When we moved to NC from Ontario, Canada in 1998, I felt confident that I would acclimate and adapt easily. Apart from the flora and fauna, North Carolina wasn’t so different from where I grew up. People were friendly. There were hills, river, and lakes. Heck, there was even a hockey team. We moved into our rental unit on a sunny, pleasant March day and everything was in bloom. “Yes”, I said, “I’ll be just fine.”
Then summer came. Every day seemed hotter than the one before. It was so dry that the grass crackled under my feet. On the rare occasion that it did rain, it didn’t cool down the way it had up north. There were bugs – BIG ONES – that I didn’t recognize that very much wanted to migrate into our apartment to seek shelter from the heat. I thought that I would surely expire that first summer. I blasted the air conditioning and fans in the house but wilted the minute I set foot out the door. People constantly asked me if I was okay. I must’ve been a sight – red-faced with my curly hair a frizzy mess in the humidity. I mostly stayed hidden inside and wished the summer away but it seemed to last forever – into September and even October. When autumn – my favorite season - arrived, I was grateful. It was glorious and I reveled in the mild, sunny winter and cheerful colorful spring that followed.
When May came the second year, I girded myself for another grueling summer. I bought some clothes to suit the season and tried to acclimate by spending a little time on our porch every day until I got used to the heat and humidity. One day, as I was standing watching some neighborhood birds, I felt something run from the top of my spine directly down my back. I was certain that it had to be some kind of creature and I remember screaming and dancing around to get whatever-it-was out of my clothing. Turns out, it wasn’t a bug at all. It was SWEAT! A big drop had formed on the back of my neck and made its way down my back. It was a strange experience for me. We Canadians don’t sweat that much. It seemed very odd.
I spent more time outside in the weeks and months ahead and I did more than my share of sweating. I had to admit, it felt good. It was like a relief valve and it helped cool me on the hottest days. Gradually, I went to the community pool, to the lake, and to the beach. I sat outside in the evenings listening to the symphony of cicadas and breathing in the magnolia-scented air. I drank tea by the gallon (Northern style, but still…) and took in many of the summer festivals the Triangle had to offer. By the third and fourth year here, I embraced those endless summers. While I still love the area where I grew up, there were many years that it was so cool, you didn’t feel like you had a summer at all. Here, there is never a doubt.
I’ve come to love Southern summers. I don’t hide from them anymore. I love the slightly more leisurely pace that they bring. Sure, I sometimes wish it weren’t as humid or that we’d get some more rain but I love that, from May through October, it’s full-tilt, non-stop backyard grilling, pool swimming, outdoor concert viewing, sweet-scented, cicada-accompanied, rollicking and undeniable SUMMER and it's pretty darned GREAT.