Goodbye Summer, Hello Winter

Photo: Gage Hingeley.

It feels like just yesterday when I was saying, “I can’t wait for summer.” I was ready to shed the full length wetsuit for lighter varieties of neoprene. I was ready to be able to surf after work and not have to bear beanies, pants and sweatshirts on my way to the coast in the mornings. I was ready to surf, bronze and frolic. I was ready for the sun to beam while beer chilled in the fridge waiting to be quaffed. I was ready for ample daylight hours to fill. After six months of a chilly, windy, wet winter and spring, the thought of hot sand, packed beaches and summer surf was pretty nice.

And then summer hit like a fat man hits the water on his first day to the beach in 12 months; cheap sunscreen whirling around him in the placid Pacific; loud music blaring from his boom box under a stars and stripes umbrella.

I was wishing for it, and then I was in the middle of it. Picture perfect summer day, upon picture perfect summer day.

And I wanted out.

My joviality soured. Summer quickly lost its allure. I started to complain. I complained about the crowds. I complained about the lackluster surf. I complained about my stifling downtown apartment, about the fate of the planet and about our warming summers. I complained about pavement and the urban heat island effect. My favorite Mexican food joint was cluttered with confused clientele; not the surgical-strike locals that order and are out in under a minute. “What’s a burrito? Can I get one without the tortilla?”

“How does your quesadilla come?” Cheesy…just like your…never mind.

I had become a real summer scrooge.

But suddenly, it was all over. The most ephemeral of seasons seized to be. Although my Labor Day sunburn lingered there was suddenly something new in the air. A different light, a different smell. It was hidden by some remnant monsoonal moisture but it was there.

The hoards went home. The kids were back in the classroom. The beach was quiet and clean. I could walk right up to the window and order what I wanted and not have to worry about getting someone’s burrito sans the tortilla. I could drive unimpeded down the street and find a place to park without my heart racing. The hot glimmer of idling cars on the highway was gone. The oily sheen of cheap sunscreen drifted away. The heavy metal of summer turned into the cool jazz of fall.

Although Halloween merchandise was already on the shelves it was nice to be in that eventless six weeks of transition between hot and cold; between summer barbeques and winter feasts; between our seasonal obligations. I felt like I had my life back.

A bit more sophistication entered my attire. I put on pants for the first time in weeks. And shoes. I had a new air of confidence, stability and comfort. No more tee shirts, shorts and sandals on the weekends and in the work place. People began to take me seriously again.

And the surf, oh the surf. Finally we got our beloved resource back to ourselves. No longer did we need to share with the out-of-towners and weekend warriors. The water was cooling but the air was still warm and the wind blew offshore. No longer were we dependent on the Southern Hemisphere’s winter storms for surf. The waves began to come from more local sources.

The sunsets erupted in symphonies of light. The daylight hours became more precious as their lengths slowly waned. Surf sessions until dark would allow me to get home at a reasonable hour. I was settling into California’s golden autumnal glory.

But it will all change again. The sun will set further and further to the south. The water temp will drop a bit more each day. I will shiver sooner and sooner into my sessions. The air will cool and the rain will begin to fall. The wind will blow. The days will be short. I will no longer be able to surf after work and it will be hard to get up early in the mornings.

Thanksgiving will come around and I will have some family obligation on “the best day of the year” (always happens). And then will come Christmas and I’ll be broke for the New Year after my continuously expanding present recipient list. I’ll have to shop at malls and deal with packed parking lots.

By February the ocean will be more pain than pleasure and I’ll shiver until noon. I will turn a year older in January and will be stumped once again for a good Valentine’s Day gift. I will get pinched on Saint Patrick’s Day.

And I’ll complain.

And I’ll say, “I can’t wait for summer.”

– Zach Plopper