 thunderstorms crackling their whips. Summer is shirt sleeves, sunburn, bathing suits, tall cold drinks, dazzling beaches and shimmering lakes. Summer is the green countryside, the cool fragrance of mountain pines. Summer is the house wren bubbling over with morning song. It's the long afternoon, a quiver with the sibilance of the cicada. It is a slow dusk freckled with fireflies and prickly with mosquitoes. Summer is a meadow full of daisies