In summer, the song sings itself. — William Carlos Williams

Then followed that beautiful season… Summer….
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Summer is the time when one sheds one’s tensions with one’s clothes, and the right kind of day is   jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all’s right with the world. — Ada Louise Huxtable