I know it’s summer when I smell the first cup of coffee that I drink at home on a Sunday morning before church.
I know it’s summer when the air smells like water first thing in the morning; when the early greyness tastes a little bit sweet, like honeysuckle and humidity.
I know it’s summer when there’s a little bit of lemon scent to the sunshine.
I know it’s summer when I smell a bit of adventure, which is a smell I can’t quite define. But it’s the smell of airplanes and airports and long car rides to new places. It’s the smell of a european tarmac. It’s the smell of his jacket when he puts it around your shoulders while you wait in line to board the plane to anywhere.
Summer’s coming. Adventure is coming.
I can smell it.