Summer So Far

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

You are treating us so well this year, dear Summer. Or maybe it's us, maybe we're finally getting the hang of you, I don't know. I know that we're dirty and sleepy and happy and relaxed. That we find berries in the garden we never knew we had, and play games and build trucks and read the same Pippi Longstocking book every day.
Some of us make a new New York Times No-Knead-Bread every night, while others google gooseberrys and what to do with them once they're ripe.
We take naps.
We drink ridiculous amounts of tea.
We watch terrible summer crime on tv, but read better (Scarpetta and Pelecanos so far).
We make plans and then forget all about them.
We meet friends and friends of friends and friendly neighbours, but mostly we just stick to ourselves and let memories of a spring that was a little too much fade away. We don't do much.

And that seems to be doing us a world of good.