Jack Frost is not around. He’ll be back this year but now the heat has him moithered. The steaks sizzle and crackle on the hot coals. The sound of glasses clinking and laughter hangs in the air. A shimmering haze rises off the asphalt road. Everyone can see for miles. The currency of this season is smiles. All relaxed, tension gone, wanting this weather to go on and on. Tennis on the telly ice cream in the belly. Feet dipped in ancient lakes cooling the body warming the heart. All joy and splendour a masterpiece of Natures art is rendered.