I love the summer, the heat of the sun burning my skin, the way everything sticks to you until you dive into the cool chill of the pool, the smell of chlorine clinging to damp tangled hair.
I love the welcoming spray of the warm green hose and the icy cold water on my tongue.
Ice clinking in a glass of tart lemonade and blazing afternoons when curling up in the shade of a welcoming tree with a favorite book is the best thing to do.
Watching green tomatoes swell and turn fire engine red and the ever growing grass turn brilliant shades of green.
Hearing the laughter of my children as they lie on the cool damp grass in the mornings and sprawling out on the trampoline late into the night, watching the fat brown bats swoop in and out of the porch light, catching their dinner.
The many vases of wildflowers that clutter up every surface available and the beloved and carefully collected seashells that adorn window sills and tables alike.
I love the sometimes smell of the ocean, and the thundering crash of the waves as the pound the shore.
I love the cheerful chatter of friends and the smell of good things cooking over a wood-fired grill, the silly games played by cousins and marshmallow smeared faces.
The cool evenings, the crickets chirping a lullaby, the birds gossiping in the brush.
The rush of energy as the heat of the day gives way to breezy chill nights.
Rocking in my rocking chair on my porch, talking to my Joff of the day, watching the clouds come in and feeling the distant rumble of a summertime storm.
I love the patter of the rain and the flashed of lightening.
The expectation that this could all last forever, knowing that it will pass ever so quickly,
leaving behind the dreamy summerday haze for the brisk, snowy wintertime.
I love the summertime, every blistering, wonderful moment.