Something about when your dog is sprawled out, bone-tired from chasing rabbits, and you lay your head on her chest. Her fur smells like cut grass and honeysuckle. It’s so warm, like it still has the sun in it, even though the peach of the sky has given way to darkness hours ago.

Something about all that is how you know, not in your mind, but in your organs and your teeth and the cracks in your skin, you know it’s summer.

Happy Summer!

Love,
Shannon