Tomorrow is the official first day of summer. For me, summer started the day we had to start using the sprinkler to keep the plants from wilting in the heat. I love to listen to the sprinkler, while I sit on the porch. I love the smell, too, of the warm, damp earth, and the sparkle of the drops of water on the green green grass.
I like the heat that wraps around you when you step outside. The sky is bluer in summer, and the clouds are whiter. I like to pad around barefoot, to feel the grass and warm concrete under my toes. The smells of grilling meat, the way a popsicle melts, the way watermelon juice dribbles down my chin -- it all sings to me of summer.
In my mind, summer is always the care-free time of sunlight and vacations. That it hasn't been that for years seems to make no difference. The feeling remains. Summer is all warm possiblity and limitless horizons. It's relaxed in a way that winter never is. Summer is flip-flops; winter is socks and boots.
Summer is a warm peach fresh from the farmer's stand by the side of the road. It's fireworks and BBQs, dairy queen and fireflies.
It doesn't get any better than this.
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