Summer vibrates in electric hues here in the North Woods. Of course you know why.
In winter, Old Man White holds us hostage in snow and ice and freezing temperatures. Old Man surrounds us in black and white, only black and white, day after day, month after long winter month.
When Pretty Woman Spring cons locked winter keys from Old Man, summer bursts forth. Ms. Summer scurries between rain showers, always in a hurry, gosh she’s alive, always painting the boldest craziest hues of purple and lime green and pink! OK, she tosses in buttercup yellow and chicory blue along roadsides, but primarily she loves delicious bold campfires of color.
Young Leaf Lad Autumn, he’s plotting, oh he’s plotting, winking, wearing his Pan disguise, tending drowsy garden squash even now, dreaming of ripe buttered acorns sweeter than moon song, yes, he’s sprinkling magic between Mama’s summer’s passionate palette–
and Old Man jiggles his white keys, jiggles them, while Great Granny Aurora Borealis weaves a Midsummer Dance, please come, let’s dance til the night sky explodes in star songs!