Summer is hearing the tree branches rustle before their soft breeze blows a strand of hair across your cheek.
Summer is hearing neighbor kids giggle as they jump on the trampoline.
Summer is lounging in the sun.
Summer is watching sunset at 12:04am and not being tired.
Summer is watching sunrise at 3:22am and still not being tired.
Summer is sitting in your kayak listening to the water lap against the sides of your boat.
Summer is standing in a puddle of snow melt, mud and grass squishing between your toes.
Summer is smelling a charcole lit grill.
Summer is mosquito bites.
Summer is being barefoot all day.
Summer is bonfires.
Summer is cutting your hair short.
Summer is falling asleep on a freshly laundered sheet, too warm for covers. Summer is the oscillating fan blowing air across the top of your head, moving down your neck and raising the fine hairs at the nape. The air continues down your shoulders, filling the dip of your low back, flowing across your hips and continuing down your thighs and calves until it reaches the arches of your feet. The fan pausing before retracing its path up your body. The sound of the fan blades whirling into one is just as cooling as the air itself.
