I remember. I remember long ago summers growing up in Oklahoma.
Slow moving, heat, sweat dripping, dust becoming powder where the truck ran over it in the absence of weeks of rain. The leaves turning dull, dark green, coated with dust. Heat. Sun. Baking. Warm, sweet blackberries replete with juice and thorns. Pricks and scratches.
Chiggers. Chiggers and ticks, itching and scratching. Barefoot all summer long, except for going to town once a week. Brown feet, hard crusted soles, stubbed toes. Tarantulas and scorpions. Wasps and sweat bees. Tumble bugs and their peculiar task of rolling up cow dung. Ant lions and their unique traps where they lay in wait at the bottom.
Sun-ripened–real sun-ripened–tomatoes, sliced red circles by the bowlful, fried okra, corn-on-the-cob. Cows mooing to be milked.
Books to read, to devour, and back to the library to get more. More reading, more chances to dream.
Oh, yes. I remember.
What do you remember about summer days?