I love summer but somehow also feel exhausted by it, by the need to enjoy it while it lasts, which is especially acute in June around the solstice. In English it’s called Midsummer, though technically it’s of course the beginning of summer, but the fact that days start to get shorter after this point always gives me the eerie sense of an end point as well.
The skies and the evening lights melting slowly into the night are glorious though, and there’s always coffee to be had, books to read and flowers everywhere. Plus lavender and linden blooms, the last of which I did not picture here, but should be imagined as the scent of most city shots- it often happens that the smell will suddenly hit me on some small side street and I just can’t find the tree at the heart of it. The scent of linden travels in mysterious ways.