I don’t do well with summer. It is something of a conundrum when I realize I started a business that will mostly operate in warm weather months. Dealing with this reality, I wear loose fitting clothes, a large brimmed hat and dark sun glasses when I am out and about with the bookstore. I also read books I have been stockpiling for the season. Books about winter. Books with frozen tundra. Books where characters wrap up in thick coats and mufflers. This summer which looks exceptionally hot in Montana, I have the good fortune to read Adam Gopnik’s Winter. I learn about snowflakes which actually begin their existence rather similar to each other and develop their individuality as they descend through the sky. I read about the men who risked everything to get to the poles even when they weren’t entirely sure where the poles were. I read about icebergs and penguins and long winter nights. I sit in the shade with a cold drink and use the medicinal powers of reading to take me to a climate that is more akin to my nature. Thank you, Mr. Gopnik.