Summer Serenade

When the thunder stalks the sky,

When tickle-footed walks the fly,

When shirt is wet and throat is dry,

Look, my darling, that's July.

Though the grassy lawn be leather,

And prickly temper tug the tether,

Shall we postpone our love for weather?

If we must, let's melt together!

—Ogden Nash

Early travels

First trip to the beach in June . . .

And Thanksgiving in North Dakota . . .