A Two-Thirds Time

The season is slowly passing.  It is no longer possible to do things in June and all the July events have happened; all the fetes and garden parties and festivals and revolutionary remembrances.  Summer seems the most precious of the seasons, the most fragile, the most easily damaged.  For that reason it is the one most associated with the past, with our ideas of our own childhoods, the time of year we look back on with the fondest memories.  And we look back to holidays as well, to ourselves as relaxed and care-free, even if we are just playing out at home.