Tonight is one of those summery nights that one fantasizes about when it's the middle of February and it's only ten degrees outside. It's that kind of night when I park my car and I can feel the thick air being pushed aside when I shut the door.
As I walk up my driveway, I can hear a junebug buzzing somewhere nearby. Those large, creepy, beetles frighten me so much that my blood freezes inside of me if I know one is close by.
I love evenings like these. It is so warm that I can wear a lightweight dress after the sun has long been gone and I don't get a chill, it just feels like my own skin.
I always feel a sense of adventure on nights like these. The thick, moist air lurking in the dark is so inviting, so mysterious and full of possibilities that it makes me anxious. I feel so inspired and exhilarated. It must be from all of the newness of life springing up everywhere. Each smell, from the fresh grass clippings piled at the end of driveways to the newly awakened lilac blossoms, they are both sweet with the promise of growth and regeneration.
Time feels much slower in the summer. Perhaps it is because of the way we have to push our way through the humid air. We become sort of sluggish. Everything seems more relaxed. There are no time constraints and there aren't any deadlines. There's no such thing as being late for something.
I love summer.
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