A Post About Nothing Much in Particular, or, The Essence of Summer.

       Funny how when after school has finally run its annual course, you find your brain suddenly freed up but have lost the will to think. Even remote thoughts like, "I think I might clean my room today," are unwelcome.
It's a lovely feeling. I've enjoyed it so much that even writing a little blog post happens only when I'm not basking in the warmth of nothing-to-do. I have a great deal less pressing thoughts all clamoring for attention, cluttering up my brain-attic and bickering amongst one another.
       This is summer. To us Minnesotans, that word means warmth, mostly. Now that our finicky globe has turned towards the sun we poke our pale faces our of our houses (they feel more like caves, and we like hermits), blinking in astonishment. What is this lush, green world? Have we been transported to a different planet?

       I've run out of words. All my description of the bliss of summer seem to fall very, very short. Maybe I should stick to poetry. But I find poetry lacking something, even if I can't decide what. Perhaps if I had something to rant about....but no. Not today. Not when the sun is so clear, and sky deep and wide and blue. I think I'll just sit and breath.