Summer is sun heat pouring down the skin of your arms and legs. It's the occasional fast rainstorm, observed from the front porch swing while filling your lungs deep, deep with the scent of wet air. It's warm, breezy nights and a jumble of stars.
Summer is TV re-runs. Gilligan's Island and the old Merv Griffin show and General Hospital with occasional visits to All My Children-Land. It's the car radio with golden oldies that even your dad can sing along with. It's the sound of Rainbird sprinklers, motorcycles at night, skateboards on asphalt, the scuffle of Tevas on sidewalks, illegal fireworks boys set off somewhere secret in your neighborhood, dogs barking, cats fighting, laughter drifting down the street, the old AC unit in the back bedroom window.
Summer is frosted pink lipstick. Blue eyeshadow. Seasonal things from Old Navy. Flip-flops. Swimming suits and cut-off shorts.
Summer is baseball.
Summer is the beach with sand between your toes and at the bottom of your sheets each night when you crawl into your bed. It's the six-week road trip across the country when you and your brothers were teenagers and your family turned into gypsies, wandering from stadium to stadium, Motel 6 to Holiday Inn to Motel 6 again. It's a drive up the canyon in search of cool air with the top down.
Summer is cotton candy. Shave Ice. Slurpees. Popsicles. Salted peanuts at a ballgame. Hot dogs. Burgers. The occasional salad to make you feel better about yourself. Corn on a cob. And just when summer is winding down, the fruit of the Gods a.k.a the peach, although fresh raspberries may give the peach a run for its money. Also, let's not forget the tomatoes.
Summer is Memorial Day with peonies for the remembered, Fourth of July with fires in the sky, and Labor Day when everyone agrees reluctantly that it's time to get back to business.
What says summer to you?
2 comments:
Have you ever had peach melba? Combines peaches AND raspberries (and ice cream). Win.
The smell of water evaporating from hot concrete - when sprinklers or that unexpected downpour hits it. Yes, tomatos. Warm. Eaten like an apple and the juice stings your hand when it runs over that one scrape you got from the rose bush. Watermelon. All the time. The sound of the high school marching band practicing for the parade. Sweat. Sunburn. Damn this heat.
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