- Moderator
- #1
Summer is...
the taste of tomatos...hot dusty days encapsulated in a sun warm and slightly musty skin...tart, sweet, and full of summer
the smell of peaches - fuzzy...and dripping because you can't eat then neatly
hot humid days with the fan blowing on you wishingn for September...
sitting on the porch waiting for hummingbirds to find the feeder
reading pure escapist fiction with out a bit of guilt
taking the dogs down the hemlock trail and walking in the creek because the water is so low all the worn mossy rounded shelves of stones turn into walkways
early daylight...late nights
cicadas and fireflies
noisy damn birds arguing overhead
ICECREAM
reading Ray Bradbury and pretending that is the childhood you remember...because....anything is possible
the taste of tomatos...hot dusty days encapsulated in a sun warm and slightly musty skin...tart, sweet, and full of summer
the smell of peaches - fuzzy...and dripping because you can't eat then neatly
hot humid days with the fan blowing on you wishingn for September...
sitting on the porch waiting for hummingbirds to find the feeder
reading pure escapist fiction with out a bit of guilt
taking the dogs down the hemlock trail and walking in the creek because the water is so low all the worn mossy rounded shelves of stones turn into walkways
early daylight...late nights
cicadas and fireflies
noisy damn birds arguing overhead
ICECREAM
reading Ray Bradbury and pretending that is the childhood you remember...because....anything is possible