Here in Richmond, amid the humid stickiness that shrink wraps the clothes to ones back, people tend to complain about the summer heat. It's a wave of it right now, a smackdown of 100 degree weather that is unorthodox for these parts, where usually they crank the A/C up to deal with 90 degree heat round' this time.
I love it. Every sweat driblet. Sure, the James River would be nicer if it was actually cool, not so near the same temperature as the air. I guess that's what happens when it is so low. But nevertheless I could grow really used to living like this. And the evenings surpass pleasant. They're downright grand.
Now mid day I am still not apt to go for a jog or anything, and the shade, at that time is definitely preferable than the sun light. Yet the shade is entirely bearable, and while the rest of my family is sheltered in the dehumidified carbon intensive interior air of the townhouse, I will most likely
be found swinging on the porch swing reading a book, soaking up my environment and very content to do so.
Winter is miserable. No matter how pretty a coating of snow can be, I hate it. I hate being stuck inside.
Even California winters are too cold for me, I now realize. I like being half naked, barefoot, and warm. Perhaps my thyroid is sensitive or something but after a week of overcast skies I feel seriously lacking, like mother earth has robbed my of my UV prosac, upon which I have developed a thorough dependency.