the summer sweet list
August 1st, 2024
Green leaves against the blue sky
Freckles on the nose, across the cheeks
Warm rain
Clovers in the grass
White socks and tennis rackets
Big fluffy white clouds that look like animals
The shower you take after you’ve been in the sun all day
Snacks by the pool
Watermelon
Latest sunsets of the entire year
The cool breeze right before a thunderstorm hits
Bikinis that untie at the side
Flushed cheeks
Gingham for picnic blankets and sun dresses
Rolling around in the grass to play, and to kiss
A white linen button-up that is slightly wrinkled with loving wear
Drops of ice cream on the hot pavement
Lazy sex
Strawberry season
Little embroidered flowers on a cotton dress
The sweat on a cold pint glass
Blowing bubbles that contain rainbows
Locally grown vegetables spread across a communal table
Fireflies, stars and the sparkle of the lake under the sunshine
Woven picnic baskets
A Tupperware of sandwiches cut into quarters
Wet hair that drips down your back
The stain leftover from strawberry juice
Bare feet
Red tomatoes and green basil
The books you read in the summer and the particular way they stay with you
Homemade pies
The smell of freshly cut grass
All the layered pinks and oranges of a sunset
Strawberry ice cream
Walking along the sidewalk, hot and sweating, when you catch a few drops from the sprinkler in somebody’s front yard
The stickiness of bug spray
Layered dips
How a bonfire crackles and surges
Friends dropping in to say hello and leaving well-fed
White tents of local farmer’s markets
Giggles at the neighbourhood pool
The insectile buzz of a humid day
Community events
Rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers
Closing your eyes to the sun and seeing the warm orange glow behind your eyelids
The way a rosy sunburn feels tight
Waking up early to watch the sunrise
The salty taste of sweat
Flowers that burst into bloom and withstand the heat of the day
Adding ice cubes to a glass of rosé
Corn on the cob, butter and salt
Counting the seconds between a lightning strike and clap of thunder
White cotton nightgowns
White cotton boxers
The low growl of a lawnmower
Pitchers of iced tea and lemonade and struggling to decide, maybe I’ll have one of each
Taking a long drive through winding roads as the radio sings
The pulse of possibility
How time feels languid and yet fleeting all at once