Although it's not technically summer, I feel confident in qualifying any day hovering around 90 degrees as summertime. As stifling as those days can feel, I still have a difficult time succumbing to air conditioning. The warm and sunny weather seems so fleeting in the Midwest that I try to appreciate it, even when sweat is dripping down my back. Plus, I've learned not to underestimate the power of a shady spot on a hot day. And the best hot summer days end in cool summery nights.
Today was one of those days, spent in the glory of Pure Michigan. It's no secret that I have a soft spot for my home state. The older I get, and the longer I live away from here, the more I learn to appreciate the little things that I've always loved. There's a simple pleasure in driving at night, windows down, the smell of summer air whipping in the windows. Mom & pop ice cream places with only a walk-up window, willing to sell me a decent portion of soft serve for under $2.00. And the even smaller details: the smell of hose water on a hot concrete driveway, complete strangers acknowledging each others' existence when they pass on the sidewalk, and there's even something about country music from the late 90s while driving down a dirt road.
Don't worry, Chicago, I still love you. And when winter rolls around, even Pure Michigan commercials are virtually powerless. My allegiances head south; not Florida-style snowbird south, but Latin America south. So many love affairs.
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