Well that’s a FINE mess global warming has gotten us into
If you’re not going to make winter, then neither am I. I’ll wear shorts. I’ll drink lemonade. I’ll go for long walks and I won’t ask you to come with me. If you won’t bring me any of the white stuff, then this will just be the dark summer. That’s right. Winter is a distant memory. This is the dark summer. Remember the dark summer of 2005? I’ll ask my children. And they’ll say, “No. Silly. We weren’t born yet.” And I’ll say “show a little respect!” And then I’ll start to throw a shoe at them, but realize that would be mean and take a deep breath and say, “Well, the dark summer of 2005 was a miserable year.” Only I’ll say miserable like it had 8 syllables instead of 3 or however many it has. Like this: Mis se ra bu uh le. That way they’ll know it was bad.

“Why was it dark, Grandpa?” they’ll ask. “Was it a meterorite?” “Weren’t you just my father?” Time moves so quickly.

And then I’ll scream and say, “It’s dark because MA Nature says it’s dark, dagnabbit. And if you kids knew anything at all about history you’d know it was dark because it didn’t snow. And also because of the tilt of the earth's axis.” And then I’d fall asleep in my rocking chair. The great-grandkids would roll their eyes and say, “What’s snow?”