Who Moved My Summer?

Once Upon A Time. . .the first day of summer marked the start of bare feet, the fresh smell of street sprinklers on hot asphalt, digging up dandelions for a penny per root and fresh squeezed lemonade. It was for getting an ant's eye view of moving sand mountains to build a home, of the forming of raspberries one succulent ruby bead at a time. It was for summer school that was pure recreation with kickball, table tennis, craft projects, wood burning and giggles.

It was the making of parade lanterns using cereal boxes to cut out flowers, stars, animals and flags in preparation for multi-colored cellophane overlays. Once the candle was waxed to the bottom, the cardboard sides punched with holes and laced with shoestrings, the 4th of July parade at Vollrath Bowl's landscaped park was anticipated with racing hearts and flashing eyes.

The first day of summer marked the loooooooong time off of school when everyone relaxed from their wound-tight, winter restricting isolation. When the air had a 'sound' of relaxation and music had a smell of romance and expectation. A time when everything seemed possible, because it was. When the flavors of the season felt slippery as home-cranked ice cream, as comforting as bratwurst on brick oven hard rolls and German Potato Salad with yellow and white boiled egg slices topped with crispy bacon crumbles.

Red, white and blue flags waving from red geranium and pink, blue and white petunia hanging pots on main street marked the coming of the 'middle' of summer. Celebrations were boisterous, colorful, happening all over town and snap, crack, popping with fireworks. (Also in bowls of Rice Krispies in fresh milk if you had a big imagination). It seemed that after the 4th of July things slowed down to neutral. August was the month without celebration. Garden's were harvested and canning and freezing for the future took front place on the To Do List. By the middle of that slow, dry month Back to School Sales served as a not too subtle reminder of things to come.

But who moved my summer? Who put the 21st of June within arms reach of the 4th of July? What do you mean there are only 13 days separting the start and the middle of MY season? What happened to that long, languishing freedom of days between these bookends? The slower I move, the faster time goes by. What's wrong with this picture? And what happened to the CREAM in ice cream, or the SUGAR in lemonade. I'm embarrassed to give the anemic half circles called hamburger buns to the birds and ducks -- it seems so wrong to give them inferior nourishment.

I don't want my youth back, but I sure do miss my summers.

How is it for you?