You will pry summer out of my cold, dead fingernails.
I don't care that the back-to-school sales are over.
I don't care that everyone else is going back to school. Or already went back to school.
I don't care that the temperature is barely getting out of the sixties.
La la la
I can't hear you.
It's still summertime.
It's the best part of summertime, when the night start coming earlier and the kids can go out on the porch after dark and make wishes. When the tomatoes overload the vines and the first apples come in and peaches are so cheap it's embarrassing.
Soon the beaches will clear and the classrooms will fill and everybody else will be breaking in new shoes and twills but we will still be wearing ragged cut-offs and crocs and squeezing the last bit of juice out of the last few days.
I like fall, too, though it always makes me sad. It has its time. But there are still three full weeks of summer to go, and I intend to make the most of them.