The End of Summer is a Drag

But not for the reasons you'd think.

No, I'm not down because summer is nearly over and I'll miss the days of hot, beating sun, screaming children, and sidewalk sales. 

I can't wait for summer to end!

I'm dragging because I just can't take anymore.  I can't stand the heat.  After growing up in what is literally the coldest town in continental United States, anything above seventy-five leaves me flushed and soggy.  I live in a tourist town, and it gets positively clogged in the summer.  And the insects.  Good lord, the insects.  Walking outside is like stepping into a combination wasp's nest/anthill/mosquito jamboree.  I have bugbites on my bugbites on my sunburn.  For me, the end of summer can't come soon enough.

I love fall.  The grayish cast to the sky that provides the perfect backdrop for explosions of red and orange leaves.  The bite in the air that has that distinctive, crisp fall smell.  The sense that people and animals alike are getting ready to cozy down for the coming winter.  The delicious fragrance of apple pie and cinnamon.

And sweaters!  I love my sweaters.  There's nothing like the feel of a bulky, knitted sweater against your skin to make you feel cozy.  Except, perhaps, for the feel of soft yarn sliding through your fingers as you knit the sweater.

So I will be sitting at my window, anxiously awaiting the first touches of yellow and red in the treetops while everyone else runs through the sprinklers one more time.  The honking of the Canadian geese fleeing south is music to my ears.