Fall lovers. I hate them. Being a summer lover, fall to me means only the demise of summer and therefore, the end of freedom and fun. No more walking out of the house in whatever you woke up in that morning. No more treks to to the distant mailbox in just your bare feet. All that lush greenery is seemingly gone too soon and the frigid, grey skies, brown, lifeless grass and skeletal remnants of forests seem to last forever before the golden glow of long, languid days returns. So it gets hot, so what? Why rush it out the door just to get back to wind chills and killing frosts? We already got gypped out of a true summer with this rain-soaked weather that lasted from April to September, so I don’t appreciate the summer-hating crowd cheering on the harbinger of death (winter) that is the autumnal equinox.