After the Winter-That-Never-Was, everything seemed to be running two weeks early this spring. Grass was greener, flowers up, trees leafing out. Even school was let out a few days earlier than had been anticipated due to a lack of snow days (yet was still later than other towns, oddly).

The ocean never cooled down as much as it would normally in January and February, and since that’s our air conditioner on the Cape, I had a feeling this summer would be rather tough. We got off easy the previous 12 months. A very mild summer, with maybe one day above 90. Then the aforementioned easy winter. Call it weather karma or a rebalancing of the scales, we were due for a hot summer.

Now we’re in the thick of it.

Which means the late-July drought has hit us two weeks early.

Growing up here and through my various jobs, I had the privilege of seeing the very best properties, especially vacation homes. Houses with long sweeps down to the water. Tall trees offering shade, sometimes with a swing, the occasional croquet set, and random lawn furniture.

And crunchy grass midsummer. Sprinkled with dandelions and other weeds. A patch of sour grass was a favorite find. We’d loll about on the lawn, chewing on pieces of it and looking for four leaf clovers. Upon close inspection, in fact, any green patch on a lawn would turn out to be the weeds.

With the advent of underground sprinkler systems and broad spectrum weed control, it has become easy to see who has them and who is sticking natural. But what I’ve noticed of late is lawns I know for certain have irrigation systems now looking tannish this July.

The owners have turned the water off. Residences and businesses, for whatever reasons, are skipping the sprinkler. Money saving or something more? Whichever, it gives me hope.

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A few questions that continue to buzz around like so many dragonflies: Where were the Chatham Lightfoots in the Fourth of July parade? Our town’s pride and joy champion jump rope team had been practicing for months for their regular spot and their performance is as much a staple of the parade as the Chatham Band. I heard rumors of a last-minute paperwork snafu, but surely a parade is for kids more than anyone. Who wouldn’t let them in?

Which local eatery will seize the opportunity to rename a favorite sandwich “The Skomal?” Piled to overflowing with alternating layers of ham and cheese.

Like so many of us, I am really looking forward to the FoodRunner truck coming to Chatham. But it seems everyone’s question is why can’t it be closer to town?

Regarding the beach access and ownership dispute at Lighthouse Beach, why is there not an article on the special town meeting warrant for a taking? Eminent domain is completely legitimate when a vital public interest is at stake. To insure public safety, there has to be a way for the town to patrol the whole beach. Adjust the lines by a few degrees and we’re done. How much could a small strip of sand, likely to be gone in the next decade or two, be worth?

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We live without air conditioning. Still. With the prevailing southwest breeze coming up the Oyster River from Nantucket Sound, perhaps we have it a little easier. The summer I lived at Nautilus, on the corner of Water Street and Main Street, spoiled me forever for sea breezes. Nothing short of being in a boat compared to being one short block from the open Atlantic.

But now, years later, we still live without AC. Sure, last week was tough. We turned on some fans. Dressed in lighter clothes. Drank lots of cool liquids. Helped, a little. The solution is to find ways to deal with it. But not escape it and shut all the doors and windows. What’s the point of being on the Cape in the summer if you can’t hear or smell it? Perhaps on those occasional drives up to Boston AC in the car makes sense. No need to arrive at a play or a nice restaurant with be-swirled hair and rumpled, sweaty clothes. But that’s different – that’s not Cape Cod. You wouldn’t have gotten me outside in D.C. or New York last week.

We live without AC, still, because it is a waste of energy and money and keeps us out of touch with the world around us. What a high price to pay for a brief moment of dry, cool air. What an awful way to kill the craving for a late afternoon swim.

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Summer is a time to try new things. Sofie and I were talking in the car, on her way back from sailing classes with Pleasant Bay Community Boating. Winter, we fall into routines. Monday through Friday, school starts and ends the same times.After school it is either piano one day, karate the next, or skating.

Supper, homework, bath and bed. Dump run on Saturday, and doughnuts at Chatham Bakery on Sunday. Not a bad routine, but there’s little room for growth. Especially when we’re a hundred miles from the wide variety of experiences available in a city.

Along with the extended daylight come the extended possibilities of playing outside, swimming – all the things you just can’t do most of the months of the year here, easily. One of the easiest ways to broaden the horizons of an nine-year-old is through food, though.

That’s good, since there is just so much more available this time of year. Kids eating the same thing, week in, week out can get a parent locked into real problems when traveling. So we’ve resolved to, once a week, try some new food.

“Wait, you’re going to do this, too?” she asked. Yep, even if I had tried something before and hadn’t liked it.

A big grin from the back seat. I added, “You don’t have to like it. But once you order it, you have to finish it.” After a little consideration, she decided her first attempt would be an oyster. Not fried or baked. On the half shell. The week after, eggplant. This will be fun.

Read this and Andy’s other columns online at The Cape Cod Chronicle.