Thermal summers are cool ones, punctuated by really hot days or hours when it is unbearable. During these latter episodes of climate's inexorable dance, we cling to the air conditioners or fans in house or car or both. For the most part it is cool and rainy, or just plain cool. We think at such times that we are part of Canada. Actually to me, such summers here remind me of Kenya, Africa on its inland plateau in early autumn (February and March). There is startling little difference between a walk in summer coastal Massachusetts and Kenya of the Mara, temperature and wind wise, in these seasons. Ernest Hemingway in his Green Hills of Africa remarked on some of the hunting glades he passed through there as being almost like apple orchards in New England (only filled with slouching lions). If you've never been to East Africa, remember this and feel a bit better for the loss. There is equal beauty here without the equivalent danger (believe me).
So you can walk through the hills without fear of the gripping humidity that will soak you through in sultrier times. Camping out weekends is more inviting than it otherwise would be if you had steamy heat floating by your tent without relief and testiness to your mood. The cool puts an appetite in your mouth and purpose in your step. A large breakfast is spring and autumn hearty. You can see summer abound around you in detail you would ordinarily miss, were you mopping your brow, swatting mosquitoes, or otherwise feeling like a damp, blood-filled dishrag. Spying a hawk or falcon through field glasses, there will be no misting up of the lenses. The cool air and imminent rain may depress you, but so can the stifling mists and humidity that helps the Sun bake the top of your head.
