I’m sitting here in the frozen tundra contemplating the onset of winter. Every year about this time I start to get a little melancholy. You see… I’m a summer person. I always have been. Ever since I was a little boy growing up in Southern California, the warm and yes… hot summer days were carefree times. No more teachers; no more books and all that stuff. As I got a little older, summer was a time for swimming, the beach and… girls *smiley face*. Again, the warm days; the barefoot days; and the time spent getting that almost all over tan were the great times of my youth.

I’m still a summer person. Every year, I can’t wait for even the inklings of summer to begin and hope that each summer will never end. This year, right after Labor Day, the end was more pronounced on me than most years. Panama City Beach was transformed almost over night. It had been a summer vacation spot full of tourists and visitors flocking to the beach. Every day there were thousands of people on the beach… all enjoying hundreds of miles of magnificent sugar white sands along the Emerald Coast (AKA the Northernmost Caribbean.)

Then, the day after Labor Day it was as if someone flipped a switch. The beaches were nearly empty. Sure, there were some of us locals, but for the majority, summer was over. I silently screamed to myself, “NO!!! IT CAN’T BE!!!”

Warm days… warm waters, but almost empty beach

I wasn’t sure if melancholy was the right word to use here. So, I used Sir Google to look it up. I found that it means; sadness, dejection, despondent, gloomy, glum, downcast, sorrowful or blue. In olden days, it was thought to be caused by “Black Bile”. Yep… that about summed it up for me this year. I had the Black Bile.

But I wasn’t going to let summer get away that easily. Not no how… not no way… not me. After all it was still warm and most folks would consider it flat-out hot. The ocean water temperature was still eighty-something degrees. I could go swim, snorkel, or even SCUBA dive without the slightest hint of it being cold. So I decided that I would not let summer end. I was bound and determined to make it last at least till my annual trek to Sin City in late October.

So, I invite you to join me for a series of installments of “Summer’s Last Gasp”.

Keeping summer alive