My June travel calendar is the stuff of dreams. I’m gone 3 out of four weeks this month and I’m pretty ok with it. That means that summer will be here before I know it, complete with all its ice cream and giant bowls of fruit and aimless, endless runs. Summer is, in my opinion, the only season as far as I’m concerned and I welcome it with open arms.
Fall is ok but only in the early transition when it starts to get cool and you bust out the boots and scarves and such. Winter is my nightmare and I wish it would die. Poor spring just doesn’t even count because I round it up to summer. (Several of you have already asked me if I’m aware of the fact that it’s not really summer yet. I am.) And that leaves us with summer: the greatest season of all time.
Let’s dive in head first, yeah?