The only thing that gets me through the winters here in this part of the country is knowing that summer will arrive. Almost June now, and for weeks, weeks, weeks the temperature has rarely approached even 70 degrees and there is simply rain, rain, and more rain. The ten-day extended forecast remains uninspiring. I keep waiting for a sign, a hint, an omen, anything that promises warmth and sunshine and summer. My toes long for liberation, Gore-Tex makes me feel uncomfortably claustrophobic and I’m tired of contemplating the mysteries of my umbrella. My seasonal affective disorder lingers and I grow impatient. Ever, ever impatient.