Comments on: A Nostalgic Commentary on Summer

By: Laura

Laura — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 02:41:23 +0000

Summer to me is the sound of cicadas chirping. In San Antonio the sound is a thunderous as the heat is thick. But it can be hot there any time of year. It’s the sound that tells you it’s summer.
And now there there is enough sun in VT that the day heats up enough to break a sweat, I think, maybe the rain wasn’t so bad. I just need a couple more visits to the pond to feel like I’ve tasted VT summer.
But oh how we’ll cry that first dip back into the 40s. It’ll come too soon this year.

By: Sandy

Sandy — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 20:43:58 +0000

So wonderful-summers of our dreams. I loved the idleness of summer when I was growing up but activity level was pretty low-too hot for anything else. So we continue to do everything we can now and just run between the raindrops…..

By: LANE

LANE — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 07:09:41 +0000

I’m sweatin’.

By: susie

susie — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 23:01:22 +0000

we were just up in middlebury vermont for our nieces wedding. the slate courtyard of the middlebury inn was washed clean by mother nature the morning of the wedding and it was obvious by the rainforest surroundings that rain had been abundant with just the right amount of beams and temperatures. down in troy, new york, my sister’s home looked the same. green. very green. out in portland oregon my son said they’d been in the 90′s and dry. vermont is living up to it’s name. the green mountain state. there’s prob’ly moss on the cows, too. loved your memories. you’re a life-liver, you are…

By: Sara Bracken

Sara Bracken — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 20:52:38 +0000

Finally we are getting a real summer here in Seattle (we’ve been ripped off for the past 2 years) and it’s lovely, but of such a different variety than those we grew up with. Those memories hit a sweet and melancholy spot. Thank you!

By: Hollis

Hollis — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 18:01:42 +0000

Oh Suzanne–I can taste the blueberries and wipe the juicy tomatoes off my chin and feel the sand irritating my behind and smell the fusty seaweed. Thanks for the memories and your own matchless style.