The linden trees and honeysuckle are in full bloom; their fragrance is inebriating. You step outside, walk down the street, and the air is thick and sweet.
I rode my bike home one evening late, under the wisp of a silver moon, through the illuminated park, holding my skirt together in one hand. The dark, bright sky was everywhere, dripping with linden and honeysuckle. The first cicadas tentatively celebrated. Summer! Summer! At long last!
It was one of those magical moments I almost wish I could bottle up to keep forever, but of course the magic is that you can’t. They are fleeting and perfect, perfect because they are fleeting.