I remember summer

I want the inside of my nose to burn with heat when I inhale.
I want my share of above average temperatures and below average rain fall.
I would welcome some chapped skin.
I crave the need to blink more often just to keep my eyes wet.
I'd settle for a little sunburn.
I'd like to check the well water level to find it begging for conservation.
I'd like to have to spread out the laundry loads to span several days to conserve water.
I'd like to be driven to late evening swimming at St. Malo park as the sun sets.
I'd like to be driven to eat dinner outside to escape the heat of the house.
I fantasize about the root cellar having a dry floor.
I feel the shortage of grass hoppers.
I want to be plagued by huge pails of string beans, topping and tailing well into the dark hours.
I want warm sweet tomatoes off the vine, splashed into mayonnaise, pepper and toasted City rye bread.
I wish my prickly pear cactus had survived.
I would like to have to leave the dogs at home while I run because they can't sweat and cool off as well as I can.
I could live with more dust from the gravel road.
I'd like to scout around on the lawn tractor losing track of where I had cut and not cut grass.
I'd like to have to haul water every day to keep my chickens alive.
I'd like to be face first into a musk melon.
I'd like to drive my truck back into the bush and bring in my wood without fear of sinking in mud.
I'd like to crank the fridges up and maybe have a freezer fail from over work.
I remember what hot burnt lawn smells like.
I want to run 90w oil in the mowers.
I want to rise at 4:30 and shut all the windows and draw all the blinds to keep the house cool during the day.
I want to make tea in the sun by the gallon and drink it, savouring the lime or lemon, ice cold after work.
I want deviled eggs and potato salad with sharp green onions from the garden because it's too hot to cook.
I want gallon jars of fresh water dills perking on the kitchen counter.
I'd like to see my wife dressed in a little next to nothing, doing some canning while sweating up a storm.
I want to look to the west and hope the rain is coming this way.
Thinking about getting up to work early before the shop becomes intolerably hot is appealing.
I get nostalgic for train rails snapping shut as the mid day sun sucks up the expansion joints.
I could stand a healthy brush fire and some rushing to finish ice cream before it melts.

One of Boo's cool desert shots at Grasslands. Can you spot the grass hopper?