I never understood that sentiment. The summers I grew up with were so mild that all they were was a reprieve from the constant threat of death that winter represents. The summers were - are - beautiful, and never oppressive in themselves. The dense mosquitoes are oppressive, but they're thinner in town. I can't take winter, not even here. It's never warm enough inside, and I tend to go crazy at night.
Having seen a summer in New York, though, I can see where he's coming from.
Alas, I no longer live in a country where it is possible to smoke at a restaurant table. Dammit all to hell. That alone me me envious in a small and mean way.
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Having seen a summer in New York, though, I can see where he's coming from.
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But I'll still make you a pumpkin pie with graham cracker crust, like you wanted.
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