What can YOU say in six sentences?
The best part of summer is what happens in the moments when nothing is planned and no one cares about schedules or dates, when an idea changes from a word to an action, even if that action involves nothing more than a nap in the hammock under the apricot tree, listening to the wind chimes tinkle in a hot Eastern Washington breeze.
The best part of summer is crawdads in a bucket, confused and perturbed at the sudden change in fortune, as little boys wade through the water and turn over rocks, hurrying to pluck up a few more crawdads before the sun sets and we throw dinner on the grill and stay up until midnight talking about nothing in particular.
The best part of summer is the hot air that makes the cool lake so inviting that all thoughts of laundry or shopping or mowing the lawn sizzle away to nothing as we push off from the lakeshore and paddle and spin in slow circles on our inner tubes under the blue sky.
The best part of summer is an early morning spent fishing at the river, guarded by a faithful dog who understands that sitting quietly as you cast out and reel in the line over and over again is its own reward, because when you finally reel in a fish all she’ll get to do is sniff the tailfin before you toss it in the cooler to save for dinner.
The best part of summer is staying up late at night to watch the stars and planets and satellites pass overhead while coyotes roam the alleys on the edge of town and warn us to stay in the yard because they are on the hunt, causing the quail to shuffle and mumble nervously on the branches of the Noble fir by the driveway.
The best part of summer is the first light at sunrise and how it’s greeted by a thousand voices in the sage brush in the fields, and then how the light lingers around the edges of the hills and clouds at sunset, orange and pink and finally a purple-blue that fades to black like dreams half-forgotten but soon to be dreamed again.