There are several signs of summer down here. Not the coming of summer, but that it has arrived. The first sure sign is there's no sense ironing your linen slacks or khaki pants, once you walk out the door the steam will take any wrinkles (or creases) out for you. You start hearing comments about how hot the days are - like this is something new. (What porch have they been under for the past several centuries?) Socks are only worn by men at weddings or funerals (and only then when some whining woman who doesn't know any better is involved.)
Old trucks can be seen on the side of the road with home made signs stating local watermelons and cantelopes are available for reasonable prices. Johns Island tomatoes can be found as far inland as Columbia, but they are best fresh from the field purchased at George and Pinks. And, the sweet corn, that sweet light yellow wonder that, as a child, my mother miraculously called a vegetable, is finally in season.
The Fourth of July is right around the corner because you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Fireworks stand and you start seeing local sweet peaches at roadside stands and in local markets. It is the time of sun screen, sun burns, Solarcaine, bug spray, tide tables, the lake, the beach, coolers, and lots of ice. It is Beaufort Stew, peach cobbler, tomato sandwiches, homemade ice cream, corn on the cob, and boiled peanuts. It is warm mornings, hot days, tropical thunderstorms in the afternoon, and those magical summer nights with fireflies when so many memories are made. Life is good and slow. We have learned to weather the heat in our own way. And, I wouldn't want it any other way.