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There are a few things that I passionately dislike about summer, out-on-summer-break-politicians, new taxes, divorce attorneys, rotund senior citizens on nude only beaches, and orange-barreled road construction ... and in this order.
Whilst the mid 30's yuppies and retired folks fill the highways, byways, waterways, and the beach summer sand, summer truly belongs to boys. It's falling from a rope swing into the swimming hole time and rafting time and bikini census time. It's baseball time and super-speed-roller-coaster time and flirting in the light of the bonfire time. Exception to such is the former 'boys of summer'. The difference between a boy and a F.B.O.S man is the latter has just aged a bit; the universe of summer knows the difference.
These summer memories may the nice thing that comes to you on some nights over there. Let not the thought that that was then, as all of it is still here I assure you. The humid night air and lightning bugs, the pretty girls who shared the light--and the summer darkness, and even the old swimming hole and fishing hole; it all awaits your return home. Ring me, and I will share my swimming hole with you. This wonderful place is captured in the few images that you see here.
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