I surmised that summer is a summation of several sun central sanctities.  Under no undo duress have I undulated towards this uninhibited understanding.  Mention of moments meandering across miles of Myrtle Beach’s mystic majesties, messy sand and meat seeking mites aside, make me mirthful. Yes, merry that my mission may emanate from change in meteorological conditions.  Erroneous would be the equation if I evade earth’s elastic emollition of ether. I’m ready to restrict myself to restful relaxation reticulated ritually, rarely warily and never remorseful that it has come.

(As I write and conclude I’m so glad you chose Summer, one word not two.)