Summer has never been my favorite of the seasons. I'm more of a spring guy. It seems that summer has never really excited me, never really raised the hope that it brings some people.

As a youngster I knew that the summer's recess meant that I'd invariably be going under the surgeon's knife. My parents always liked to schedule things that way. Heaven forbid I miss a few weeks of school at such a vital age. A little snip here, a little adjustment there and I'd be spending the summer months recooperating while I literally watched the other kids play.

Once I grew older I began to become acquainted with summer. This was Michigan, remember, and summers were both brief and brutal. By July the temperature was scorching and, this being the Midwest, central air-conditioning was nowhere to be found. It was a pointless luxury, the ol' AC, because by early September the swelter was replaced by the damp falling leaves.

When I lived in the UK summers were merely a passing fancy. A beautiful respite from a dark and damp winter. However, I knew that the season also marked the turning of the calendar. I knew that as summer began to wane we'd have to return to the States to another harsh Michigan winter.

Summer in Georgia is disturbingly unremarkable. Spring is demarked by Mother Nature bathing everything in her bright green pollen. It fades away as summer approaches and the heat becomes oppressive. The thing is, though, you're not allowed to enjoy summers in the South. That heat is so oppressive that you can only take it for spurts. The bugs sure love it, though.

Last year I experienced my first summer in the Northeast. I can't really say that I experienced it, per se, I was still getting used to my environs and not really settled. What I remember of it was hot, deserted and smelly.

This year I'm changing my tune. I'm no longer dreading you, summer. I welcome your challenge, your adventure. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.