Posted by on May 26, 2010 in Current Affairs | 17 comments

Last night we grilled chicken on skewers and corn on the cob, and ate our dinner outside well after 7:00 pm. Everything tasted amazing. Everything smelled and felt like summer. There's no central air in this big old creaky house and thus we move a little slower, and readjust our priorities, when the weather gets hot and humid (Run the vacuum? Nah.). Today I bought the mandatory blow-up pool and squirt guns along with sunscreen, sunscreen for faces and scalps and bodies, at our local Kmart. I can't possibly leave four-year-old Mary alone in a pool filled with water, alone with her brother who has all kinds of brilliant ideas like leaping from stools into pools much too much shallow for such dare-devilish acrobatics. I can't leave her and tend to upstairs chores, upstairs where its muggy as a sauna, and so I sit guilt-free for hours on the screened-in porch where I can observe my children engorging themselves on warmth and fun. School's out in a week. I'm already beginning to feel myself unwind.

Summertime 1


Summertime 7


Summertime 9


Summertime 8


 Summertime 2 

I dedicate my poem this week to all of the prune-skinned, tan-faced, chlorine scented boys and girls (my own included)  who all summer long will undoubtedly beg their parents to stay up, to stay out,  just a little bit later.  May fireflies, freeze tag and bomb pops forever dominate your memories of summertime and childhood.  
Sweet dreams, tonight and always.
Bed in Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?