I love when the season slowly begins to warm the sleepy world up. 

The long quiet of winter makes me so restless and dreary.  As soon as those trees begin to bud, and those first bulbs pop up their tender heads, I begin to feel alive again.  The flirtatious seventy degree days causes one to step outside with new vigor. 

Then, as it always does here in the South, these days seesaw between pleasant temperature and upper eighties.  Now, in May, it is nearer to summer than those memorable seventy degrees. 

However, I still love summer down here.  The heat, bright flowers, cold bubbly drinks, twilight frogs, burgers/brats/beers, water hose fights…all of it.  A rural summer is the only way to get the real experience, in my humble opinion.