Twenty-five years ago, I lived in a small town in northern Japan. I used to stroll through the neighborhood, learning what I could about the place I called home for three years. One sweltering summer afternoon, I walked by a preschool, and all the kids were running naked through the spray of hoses held by adults. Japan is a modest culture, but public bathhouses are customary, so preschoolers playing in the water made sense. This was summer in Misawa, Japan.
Yesterday I was wandering the streets of Sandwich. A little girl, maybe 3, was in and out of a blow-up pool. It looked like dad was in charge and not enforcing the bathing suit rule. I laughed. It must be summer in Sandwich too.
A couple of blocks away, I saw a little boy clutching a teddy bear while trying to steer his tricycle at the same time. His little legs were peddling much faster than the upper half of his body seemed prepared for.
Peonies are ready to burst. Phlox, lilac, lily of the valley and honeysuckle perfume the air. Winged maple seeds spin to the ground.
Tonight I walked through the forest to the river. It was sloppy wet from all the rain. It was still 82 degrees as the sun was setting. I was unprepared. My car was far, far away when the swarm found me. Mosquitos. I danced, slapped, cursed and laughed my way back to my vehicle. And that, my friends, is summer by the river.