It has been one hot summer in Chicago.
Some claim climate change is making the asphalt melt, because, sadly, even the weather is political; and others who have seen Chicago run hot and cold, say it is just that -- a hot summer.
Sometimes a hot summer is followed by a horrifically cold and snowy winter, but not always.
Chicago in the summer means outdoor activities, from jogging along the lake or in the neighborhoods, to 16 inch softball, to kids opening fire hydrants. It means being outside without reflexively sucking in your gut beneath your four layers of clothing and coats. It means...fun -- for the majority. You swim a little, cook out in the backyard, and the living is easy.
Until it gets too hot. Can it...get...too hot?
On the 100 degree scorchers I have seen restaurant patios looking like a sub-zero day: the chair abandoned and even stacked; joggers and runners are fewer; and, hell, let's skip the softball game tonight anyway.
There there is the hawk.
That bitch of a bird attacks off Lake Michigan each winter, and you do not have to be scurrying down Michigan Avenue to feel its talons in you. As far out as Morgan Park and Mt. Greenwood, you can feel that beast of a bird, remembering that science has claimed it is the descendant of the T-Rex.
Windy City. Remember, it is from this hawk that the city gets its name, not the blathering politicians.
Winter has its beauty, too, especially now that the snow is white, unlike when I was a child and it used to fall in black and sometimes rust, depending on what was belching out of the steel mills. Early in the morning in winter, Chicago is usually quiet, with only a few hardy? souls jogging and racing about -- until rush hour, that is. A snowy weekend in Chicago is often an excuse to huddle home with the least approved junk food and chow down.
Some like it hot. Some cold.
Either way, Chicago in the extreme can be a scene from either Dante's Inferno or his Paradise, depending on your wont and desire.
Who needs spring or fall?