Well, SUMMER is a-comin' in---at last. There is a book I used to read every summer. And then I put it aside for a bit, and lo-and-behold, twenty more years have gone by. Tomorrow is the first day of summer -- 2004 -- and I just started reading it again. Here's the first paragraph of that volume:

It was a quiet morning, the town covered over with darkness and at ease in bed. Summer gathered in the weather, the wind had the proper touch, the breathing of the world was long and warm and slow. You had only to rise, lean from your window, and know that this indeed was the first real time of freedom and living, this was the first morning of summer.

And that chapter ends with:

Clock alarms tinkled faintly. The courthouse clock boomed. Birds leaped from trees like a net tossed from his hand, singing. Douglas, conducting an orchestra, pointed to the eastern sky.

The sun began to Rise.

He folded his arms and smiled a magician's smile. Yes, sir, he thought, everyone runs when I yell. It'll be a fine season.

He gave the town one last snap of his fingers.

Doors slammed open; people stepped out.

Summer 1928 began.

by Ray Bradbury in Dandelion Wine---1946

(via art thieme)