And where are the groundhogs?

I’m proposing a toast to deliquent summers and forgotten 4th of July barbeques, to shorts and bathing suits (even though I hate them), and to concerts and cinema in the park. I didn’t think I particularly liked hot weather. I’ve never missed California’s sunshine since I left it (… 5?!?) five years ago. But now, in the absence of a season I swear to hate — I miss it! If I could at least have the security of a faithful groundhog’s prediction, I could bear this contaminated gray mass of perpetual cold with some amount of grace. But—is it ever going to end? I don’t know. Mr Groundhog? What say you?