I hear summer. The sounds bounce off of every hill, every rock in our valley, and they seem close by.
Car sounds on the Interstate make me think of days when we headed out to the nearby lakes, Tahoe, Pyramid and Frenchman’s. Our parents packed up the stationwagon with a picnic and floats and towels. Everyone wore a swimming suit under their clothes. We splashed in the water, played tag and dove to look for little treasures.
We spread our towels on the beach to dry off. The seagulls flocked overhead. They called and fought over picnic scraps. Never did a sandwich taste as good as it did after a couple of hours afloat on the lake.
We (cousins, friends and siblings) wore flip flops in the summer. Walking and talking can be tricky in flip flops. We had many stubbed toes, which were accompanied by squeals of surprise and possible crying in pain. That did not stop our progress if we were going to 7/11 for a slurpee, or the frog pond to look for polywogs.
Sounds of kids yelling and playing in backyards echo from far and near. Birds make their territories known. A grasshopper clicks it’s wings and hops across the warm ground. I hear my neighbor’s radio playing 80’s music and think of when listening to the radio was the best.
Dogs bark across the gully. A pair of nesting ravens talk to each other from the juniper trees.
Summer is coming. I hear it.