Scott was a purist, a literalist and a rule follower. For him everything was black and white.

I am a rule follower, too, but for me the world turns in shades of grey (no, not those–get your mind out of the gutter.) As a writer, nothing is literal. Language creates fluidity, nuance, and creative license.

One of the ways this manifested itself was in the change of seasons. Scott and I followed different calendars.

His was astronomical.

Mine is meteorological.

His was set by the position of Earth in relation to the sun; mine is based on the annual temperature cycle.

Right now, his is winning.

For Scott, Summer begins on or about June 21 and ends on or about September22.

For me, Summer commences June 1 or the day after Memorial Day, whichever comes first, and ends Labor Day or September 1, whichever comes last. This used to be predicated on the school calendar. The summer season coincided with summer vacation. For some ridiculous reason, that is no longer the case and so now we have three calendars, with the school year (hence Fall) starting mid-August. I choose to ignore this development.

So this year, we have passed Labor Day and school is well under way and for me, summer is done and dusted. (Dusted being the operative word as it has been dry as . . .) And now, it should be getting cooler.

Nay nay. As I write this, it is nearly 7:00 and still 91 outside. This is bad, even for Texas.

I am so anxious for fall weather that last week when it hit 85 one day, I was tempted to pull a sweater out of moth balls (no, I don’t really use those. Does anyone really use those? It was just a turn of phrase–refer to paragraph two above.) And I thought I smelled someone’s fireplace. Turns out I had burned up a hambone I was boiling to make split pea soup, but that’s another story altogether.

Anyway, the cold snap was over by the next day and my kids and I spent a day comparing temps in our houses because the air cons just couldn’t keep up. I’ve been wondering when my air conditioner would give up the ghost. I can’t believe it’s held on this long.

But the earth continues to turn on its axis and travel in its inevitable ellipse around the sun. The moon waxes and wanes; the tides ebb and flow. And the seasons change . . . eventually.

Let’s hope that keeps happening and we don’t end up with perpetual summer.

I would miss pumpkin spiced latte.