The dog days of August came early to Glens Falls this year. They descended on us last week like a pack of hungry wolves after a long, cold winter.

Winter. Just typing the word conjures up the thought of frigid Arctic air breathing down the back of my neck. Snowbanks three feet high. Icicles three feet long. Wind chill factor of 30 degrees below zero.

Wasn�t it only a few months ago that I trudged from car to store in turtleneck, sweater and jacket, yearning for the freedom of shorts and a t-shirt? Now, I can barely remember what it was like to navigate along an unplowed sidewalk and feel snow sneaking down my boots.

I call it weather amnesia. We go through such drastic climate extremes here in the Northeast that our brains refuse to let us remember the worst of what we endured. When it�s below freezing we put on a sweater and when we�re sweating we turn up the freezer.

Other regions of the country have regular cycles of floods and droughts, hurricanes and tornadoes to contend with. The South has longer periods of higher humidity than we do. The Northwest has longer periods of rain. The West has endless heat and longer periods of dryness. Up here in the North Country, it�s a grab bag. We get it all. It�s a challenge to live here because we have to be so adaptable.

In February I hosted a summertime-themed party called "Come in from the Cold." We set up the house for picnic, complete with deck chairs and umbrella, cranked the heat up to the mid-70s and invited people to bring their favorite warm-weather munchies. Anyone who wore their winter woollies inside had to be prepared to sweat.

The week before I sent out the invitations, we were in the middle of what the meteorologists call unseasonably mild weather. I was annoyed and worried. The key to success for this type of gathering is the idea that people are sick of winter. This hadn�t happened yet. The whole winter to that point (and, as it turned out, beyond) was unseasonably mild.

It was enough to make me believe in global warming.

Luckily, the temperatures dropped and a moderate snowstorm hit a few days before the party. Everyone who came was eager to enter into the warmth and ignore the whole white world outside.

Most people wore short-sleeve shirts; many wore shorts, too. One brave soul wore a bathing suit to go with her official "lifeguard" t-shirt and CPR gear. I gave the house a summertime feel with various props: a fishing pole here, a water ski there; sunscreen on the shelf, right next to the electric fan and the towels. We drank strawberry margaritas, ate three-layer taco dip and ignored the pile of jackets and boots by the door.

We�ve had this type of party two other times in the nine years we�ve lived here. I always envisioned having a "sequel" of sorts in August called "Winter in Summer" but never had central air conditioning. Now that I do, I don�t think it would work as well. No matter how low I set the thermostat, I just can�t imagine wearing calf-length woolen coat and drink hot chocolate when the Glens Falls National Bank thermometer reads anything above freezing.

In the middle of last week�s heat wave I was in my air-conditioned car at a stop light, watching a crew pave over a gravel parking lot. I couldn�t believe they were working in the middle of the afternoon, the hottest part of the day. I recently heard that the asphalt they�re laying down is heated to 400 degrees. Add eight hours of 80 or 90 degree air temp and 80 or 90 percent humidity and you�ve got a job that defines the phrase "hot as hell."

There are lots of ways to deal with the heat.

You can jump into a cool shower, run through a sprinkler or dive into the deepest part of Lake George.

You can buy one of those little plastic fans on a rope to hang around your neck, or fan yourself leisurely with a folded piece of paper.

You can eat chocolate ice cream or lime Jell-O. You can drink bottled water or an old-fashioned mint julep. You can rub an ice cube on your arms or pour Gatorade over your head.

No matter what you do to cool off, sometimes there�s really no way to ignore that it�s boiling, blistering, sizzling hot outside.

And that�s okay.

Because in a couple months, we�ll be scraping frost off the car window and wishing the summer lasted just a little bit longer up here in the North Country.