In the scorching heat, my friend Walter Melon and I journeyed to the public fairgrounds just outside of Buffalo to watch our friend Dave compete in a high-jumping competition. The air was clear, but the humidity high, and as our soon-empty water bottles simply couldn’t quench our thirst, we decided to share an August ham on the top bleacher (I must pause here and apologise to the man smoking a cigarette directly below us—fruit juice falls fast and we couldn’t help but extinguish his flame).
Dave—who at one point jumped for his county, but now only enters amateur competitions for adulation and beer money—was uncharacteristically nervous beforehand, and we quickly found out why; although he executed the most perfect Fosbury-flop imaginable (used on the higher jumps, for those of you who care about such things), he then proceeded to flop right on his a*se in front of a crowd of approximately five-hundred suburbanites. Shame, that.
But it was a gorgeous summer day that I won’t soon forget—the memories will last at least as long as the watermelon-juice stains on my left flip-flop.
It'll probably be another 3 years until we get a proper summer! 
It was warm and summer, suddenly over night, it dropped belov zero. 
(in the night) I saw on the weather that it had been snowing, so cold that rain turned into snow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No snow here where I live (yet) luckely. 
and Monica Bellucci 
You might grow fond it.
