August 18 2006

Text By Greg Fallis

Summer is the season of the lime. It's the season of long evenings sitting on the porch, mojito in hand. It's the season of baseball and bicycles, of fresh vegetables from the garden and the smell of charcoal. Summer is the color of the lime. It makes children of us all...and like our childhood, summer begins with the belief that it will last forever; like our childhood, it passes so quickly that we wonder how we missed it.

In summer, according to Thoreau, "we live out of doors, and have only impulses and feelings." No somber autumn afternoon evokes a hunger for key lime pie, no raw winter evening makes us yearn for a gin and tonic, and no spring morning calls out for fresh limes on fish tacos. No, limes are for a summer day, for living out of doors, for impulses and feelings.