Dear Summer,

I wanted to drop you a line to let you know how much I enjoyed spending time with you this year. It may not have seemed like it, because I didn’t seem to get outside as much as I wanted to, but I had fun when we hung out. The harvests from the garden? That was all you. Afternoons at the pool? Terrific! And those Friday nights picnicking in the Sculpture Garden? We’ll be talking about those for weeks to come.

When you took off a few weeks ago, I thought you might have headed south for the season. I broke out closed-toe shoes and thicker skirts and a long-sleeve jersey for biking in the evening. We draped a blanket over the bed and turned off the A/C. A few days we even craved soup.

But then back you came. Perhaps you thought you were being a bad guest, leaving before you’d said you were going to. It was fine; we appreciated not having to wear jackets to the final baseball games of the season and thought it was nice to spend a few more days together.

Sunday, however, Autumn knocked on the door. She asked to come in and I was mortified to have to turn her away. I mean, she had enough luggage for three months! And she likes to travel with jeans and light sweaters and jackets, so her bags are much heavier than your shorts and tanks and gauzy tops and flip flops.

I mean, Summer, the community pool has been drained for three weeks now. Apples and pumpkins are crowding out corn on the cob at the farmers’ market. Kids are back in school. Baseball is winding down as teams work to wrap up the pennant races. And, for goodness’ sake, football is several weeks in already!

You haven’t picked up on my subtle hints as I knit with bulkier yarn and sigh over my cute fall hats. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to be blunt:

It’s time for you to go.

Please, don’t make a scene. Just take your blood-thirsty mosquitoes and your humidity and head over the Equator. I’ve been reading some Australian blogs and it sounds like they’re ready for you to pay them a visit.

Don’t take it the wrong way; I’ll be delighted to see you again next Memorial Day. I’ll be eager to visit the Eastern Shore and to swim in the ocean. My sandals and tanks will have had time to rest up and will be ready to dance with you again late into the night. Months of cold and rain will have me yearning to bare my skin to you and to have you bake it golden brown, skin cancer concerns be damned.

But you have to leave in order for me to miss you.

It’s been a lot of fun. I’m looking forward to the occasional post card and the odd phone call to let me know how you’re faring. In the meantime, know you’ll be in our thoughts.

Truly and with great fondness,

sprite