There's just something about summer. Like the air is suddenly electric and there's that impossible creative wonder surrounding you; somewhere between the sticky heat, Mr. Whippy's and flip flops hitting the pavement do we suddenly feel alive. By that I mean really alive, not just somewhat hopelessly dragging ourselves through one day to the next, hoping for a break in the monotony provided by simple every day life.
Alive in summer means actually physically living, not just existing. Quite literal are late nights and water fights. Not only does the sun shine brighter but the grass is greener and the water warmer, cliche I know. Summer to me is magical. Simply not having to really be anywhere, the adventurous unplanned discovers and wanderings. Even our typical British "Summer" with the usual distinct lack of good weather is beautiful, what would July & August be without a fair share of a rainy indoor day? only then to be matched with the way everyone bares there legs the second we hit above 18 degrees.