Summer...

....is a field of long, brown grass, its dryness prickling your nose, the tips tickling your face as you swish through it.
...and sweat between your shoulder blades
...and an old Turkish man selling bicycles at a flea market in a field, and a small boy riding the red one home
...and the ding of the ice cream truck
...and the sweet-burnt smell of Nurnberger wurst and crusty bread
...and blue sky, green leaves against a birch's zebra bark, and a late afternoon gold glazing the faces of children playing outside.