The summer of the central valley attracts the small pleasures of life
Summer and life is easy
The fish jump and the cotton is high
Oh your father is rich and your mother is beautiful
So shut up little baby, don’t cry
One of these mornings you’re gonna wake up singing
So you’ll spread your wings and take to the sky
But until this morning there is nothing that can hurt you
With mom and dad standing by, by, by, by
Jazz greats Sarah Vaughan must have been inspired by a day like today when she first sang “Summertime” in the 1940s.
You will almost hear his sassy voice sing as a gentle breeze blows the stagnant air into the late morning as the mercury pushes its way toward the 90 degree mark.
Summer time has arrived in the central valley.
You almost pity those who retreat to sealed stucco graves where the hum of air conditioners stretched out in the sun effectively muffles the sweet music of the floating leaves.
This is the type of day meant to sweat or just retreat under the apple tree and take five lying on the cool grass while your thoughts revert to days of barefoot walking in a cove enjoying the cool feeling. and sultry icy sand oozing between your toes.
It was a time when you couldn’t wait for summer. It meant the freedom to get on your bike and explore the great unknown.
Baseball on a sand field filled the days, not video games.
Heat was never seen as the enemy.
Instead, he’s been seen as a barometer of good things to come – shell peanuts from a burlap sack on the back porch with your buddies, enjoying the summer treat of watermelon while the sticky juice drips over. your chin while you spit the seeds on the lawn, and sleep in the back yard under the stars.
It was a time of chatting and big plans.
Nothing compared to the sheer pleasure of being snuggled under a blanket as the cold of the night swept away the remnants of the day at 90 degrees while meditating on the great questions of life such as what there would be if not. there was no space and stars or just indulge in sub-sophomoric pranks and jokes.
The imagination has gone wild. Questions and exploration never ended. The possibilities were endless.
Vacant lots were an invitation to create earth forts with tunnels. You and your friends will amaze each other with things you could build with a hammer, a few nails, and pieces of wood.
If you were lucky your mom would remove the rock salt, sear the vanilla, crack some eggs and mix other wonderful ingredients and let you divert your endless energy to throw the arm needed to turn all things into what Dreyers did. can not even close to replication.
You couldn’t wait for the day when you were “old” enough to help your grandparents with fence posts and the like on the ranch or tag with daddy at work. It was considered something important. You were coming of age, even though your voice was still years away.
It was a time to fall on your face. It was good to have Walty Mitty moments just as it was good to imagine yourself as Willie Mays when you picked up the bat, cut the thick midday air with your swing and took off down a line. base marked with trampled weeds.
You never wanted the day to end, lazy, or intensely engaged in such a hauntingly haunting distraction as pitting your mind for hours against a lizard zigzagging across a field.
We almost feel sorry for children who have never tasted such pleasures.
The heat never bothered you as you considered it a perfect excuse to do whatever you wanted to do, whether it was running around the neighborhood playing hide and seek at dusk or just immersing yourself in a book like “Tom Sawyer” “. Spending time with a book in the summer has almost always resulted in trying to replicate what you read, such as creating a raft that never seemed to descend more than a meter from the stream before it collapsed and sank.
And the best part is you could get up before dawn and go nonstop until long after the darkness has chased the sun away.
It was freedom. Life cannot be better.