I love you, summer. I love languid walks with the dog on the hot sidewalk. I love picking blackberries until my fingers are stained purple and I make a silly face because I just ate a sour berry. I love riding my bright red scooter and the warm air curling up my neck and inside my full-face helmet. I love going to the beach with my family, carrying our lunch, and saving it just in time from the sudden splash of a big wave. I love the cold shock of paleo ice cream melting in my mouth. I love the starry sky, the full moon, the haunting sound of a faraway train in the night because I’m too sweaty to stay asleep. I love the gigantic fan that a dear friend let me borrow, that I kinda secretly kept, which sits in the window and swishes the upstairs curtains, making them dance. (And indeed, I do think my friend will laugh if I confess, for she must have forgotten about the fan altogether.) I love the dry grass, the burnt air, the wind that can’t push anything. I love our garden and ripe tomatoes and getting my hands and knees dirty. I love ice cubes. I love the smoke from our BBQ grill. I love camping with friends. I love you, summer.