This post really isn’t scheduled, but I just couldn’t wait on this.
If you’re like me, Summer races by in a blur.
I take on so many jobs, mindful of the lean, desperate days of winter that’ll be upon us soon enough. There are very few days when I find even a moment to savor the delights of this most languid of seasons. And even though Fall is my favorite season, there’s nothing to compare with Summer for sheer sensuality.
Just off the top of my head, here are some of those seasonal sensations that I’ve been missing:
The feeling of cool clover or sunwarmed sand on my feet;
The sound of a screen door hinging shut and gently banging a couple of times;
The scent of suntan lotion;
The taste of strawberry pie;
The slap-slap-slap of flip-flops;
Someone in the neighborhood grilling steaks;
The sound of children splashing in the pool and endless “Marco!” “Polo!”
The bruised sky and strange sunlight that signal a late afternoon storm brewing;
Drinking from a garden hose that’s been warming all day — the way the hot water judders out in four or five convulsive spasms and then that first blessed gulp of cold water (and that unmistakable heated plastic taste);
The scent of tomato plants luxuriating in a sunny garden;
The Perseid meteor shower;
Little bats flittering in a clearing at twilight;