Most people see Spring and Summer as the ideal time to have an adventure in the great outdoors.
Spring? YES!
Summer? Not so much…
This morning I woke up and it was 45 degrees before the sun crawled over the mountain. It’s only 48 now with the sun in my eyes – and all I want to do is put on my hiking boots and get out there in it.
I don’t feel this way when I wake up and it’s 85 – with equal humidity – and the haze is so thick that you could comb your hair with it.
Summer is appealing because the days are long – kids are out of school – and everything seems a little more relaxed. It’s perfect for hanging around a pool or a pond.
A pond is much better for me.
But its not great for hiking around – save for catching frogs with your kids; scrambling up a riverbed that will soon be a river once again.
In the fall, everything cools off – the temps, the mosquitos – everything seems to come into perspective, and then the leaves start to change… Then the sunsets become biblical… You need to pack an extra layer, but you can still rock your Crocs if you’re so inclined.
Truth be told – I spend the whole year in the outdoors. New England offers me that kind of setting where I can glean inspiration from all twelve of the months. But I really soak it in from September to the leading edge of June.
Sure, I’ll go camping in the middle of August and sweat my ass off morning, noon, and night – let the walls of the tent stick to me as I roll over constantly.. But I would rather parlay that until late September when I can wake up and flick the dew off the mesh windows of that same tent, head out into the sunrise, and – if I’m careful – listen to the season change.
Tribe Of Flannel 