Summer Memories

While deep cleaning the other day I came across some writings from twenty-five years ago or more.  Since summer is just around the corner, I thought I would share this one about my early memories of lazy Nevadan summers.

"Mom, what do you remember about summers?"

I remember 100 degree heat, swamp-coolers in the windows, squeaking screen doors, and the city pool--30 swims for $1.

I remember blinding lightning, ear-splitting thunder, five-minute gully washers, and the wonderful smell of wet sage.

I remember 25cent Saturday matinees, newsreels, adventure serials, and popcorn.

I remember sleeping bags, burnt marshmallows, mosquito bites, Dad's hammock, campfire smoke and Mom always cooking over the Coleman stove.

I remember tumble weeds, picnics at the dam and in the desert, climbing hills, running through dust-devils, and riding bikes.

I remember playing cowboys and Indians, hide and seek, jacks, red rover, tether ball, Annie, Annie Over, paper dolls, and school.

I remember catching horned-toads, garter snakes, frogs, monarch caterpillars, and the mumps.

I remember the musty smell of the dark library and reading all the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books, Heidi, and Black Beauty.

I remember collecting tree frogs, stamps, old "dinosaur" bones, and butterflies.

I remember making mud pies, model airplanes, faces at the girl down the street, and cinnamon rolls.

I remember eating homemade ice cream, chocolate chip pancakes, navy-bean soup, and date bars.

I remember helping my dad mix mortar, lay bricks, ink architectural drawings, and balance checkbooks.

I remember seeing the dead body of our pet dog, the neighbor's chicken, a friend's rabbit, and my best friend.

I remember purple mountains, gorgeous sunsets, car rides in the cool evening air, and a Nevada sky full of stars.

That's what I remember about my wonderful summers.