I'm already beginning to hear those horrible words from people as we get closer to September. Please stop.

If you know me, you know summer is my number one season. And why wouldn't it be? Aside from the weirdness of the pandemic, this summer had been great as far as I'm concerned. I dread the arrival of fall which leads to the arrival of winter, and I think you know my thoughts on the winter season.

The weather has been awesome. Not a lot of rain, plenty of sunny days and several days in the upper 80s and lower 90s. Up until recently, I don't think we've experienced as many days in the 90 degree range as we've had in the past.

When I was a kid, it seemed like we had a lot of days that ended up in the low 90s. I enjoyed all those summers, well except for the few years when my father and I spent the season raking up rocks in our backyard every day after he got home from work.

We would rake them up in long piles, then shovel them into a wheelbarrow to be deposited in fill areas in the front of the house that we had just built. Why did we pick a plot of land with a yard full of rocks to build a house? It took a few years to get the back yard free of rocks and full of grass rather than the rock garden it had been.

This summer, I've been fortunate to spend many weekends and vacations at my campground, enjoying a great country lifestyle rather than spending the season in my stuffy, cramped home in the city. Since the pandemic pretty much shut down any mobile DJ gigs for me, I haven't missed a weekend yet at camp.

And I will continue to celebrate the summer of 2020 until they kick me out of the campground sometime in October. Until then, I'd like to not hear anymore talk about the end of summer, please and thank you.

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