“we stagger through an immense summer morning after showers leave their sweet bouquet
smelling of liquid lace, lovely as a song and secret wild blossoms……”

 “the sun has burned our skin dry, like a slender page,
we crack with sound and heat, like red dirt whipping on the wind
thin streams of perspiration trailing cheekbones pink with heat”

“green leaves shimmer with resigned fury against the burning sky, clouds sift by
lazily chasing the sun, tomatoes gently boil on the vine
and even my shadow has left to look for shade.” KJS

“Summer is the time when one sheds one’s tensions with one’s clothes, and the right kind of day
is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk
with the belief that all’s right with the world.”
–  Ada Louise Huxtable