The summer sun was just creeping up as I stepped outside with my coffee and settled on the patio.

The bird action at the feeders was frenzied and loud. I pulled my phone out, turned on my Merlin bird app and watched all the different species pop up on my screen as their chirps were heard, including a Carolina chickadee I hadn’t seen before.

Our old golden retriever settled at my feet and fell asleep on the already-warm pavement. I heard the sound of my early-bird neighbor’s lawn mower and caught a whiff of freshly cut grass. There was no shade on the patio, and the sunshine was already becoming so bright I realized I should have brought my sunglasses and a hat outside with me.

My friends and I had an early tee time, so I finished my coffee and went inside, the air conditioning quickly cooling me.

An hour later, I was on the driving range, loosening up for our round. Already sweaty, I took a gulp of cold water from a water bottle I had brought from our freezer. The ice already was melting.

The weather forecaster had warned it would be a scorcher, so I was prepared with lots of water and a towel I soaked in the fountain before we started.

The course was dewy green and beautiful. As we followed our tee shots on the first hole, we saw sprinklers running on the green ahead of us. I half-hoped they would stay on to give us a good soaking when we arrived there, but they switched off in plenty of time. We could track the line of our putts through the wet grass.

By the time we were making the turn to the 10th hole, the temperature was over 90, so we were happy to see one of the course’s cart girls pull up. I bought us four Summer Shandy beers, ice cold and dripping from her cooler. I pressed mine against my forehead before I took my first swig.

After we finished playing, we settled under an umbrella outside the clubhouse and shared a pitcher and a pizza, settling our small bets and chatting about our plans for the rest of the day.

By the time I got home, I was ready for my nap. I took a cool shower, changed my clothes, settled on the hammock under our big, leafy maple tree and began replaying the round in my head before I dozed off. I woke a half hour later with the dog licking my hand, ready for her walk.

I rolled awkwardly out of the hammock, grabbed her leash and drove her to the park, where we made a shorter-than-usual circuit in deference to the heat. This didn’t stop her from indulging in zoomies around the dusty baseball field, but by the time we got back to the car, we were both ready for more air-conditioning.

Our daughter and young grandsons arrived at the house not long after we got back from the walk, and I filled our baby pool for them, but the dog beat them to it, pawing at the plastic and then just standing in there to cool off. The kids chased her out, filled the pool with plastic sea creatures and a Paw Patrol boat and spent the next half-hour sucking on Freeze Pops, splashing each other and attacking the boat with sharks, whales, crocodiles and sea dragons. I seriously considered joining them, but there was no room, so I settled for my own Freeze Pop.

We had IronPigs tickets, so we got everyone dressed and headed to Coca-Cola Park. We loaded up on hot dogs, pretzels and Mike and Ikes, then watched a contingent from a local kids’ baseball league throw first pitches, rating their form.

I had my scorebook, and I was teaching the boys how to keep score, so they each took one half-inning before losing interest. They dragged their mom to the playground after three innings, making sure to return in time for the Pork Race, their favorite part of the game. Hambone lost, badly, as usual.

The sun had set, and the lights were on. A light breeze kept it comfortable, even though the temperature still was near 80.

We were pushing toward their bedtime, so we left after singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the seventh-inning stretch. Both boys fell asleep in their car seats on the way home.

After they dropped me off, I spent a few more minutes in the dark outside on the patio, watching fireflies, listening to crickets and gazing up at the stars. So warm and beautiful. I closed my eyes for a moment …

… And woke up on my La-Z-Boy, under a blanket. I got up and staggered to the window. The back yard was covered with almost a foot of leftover ice-crusted snow, full of tracks where I had trudged to our bird feeders. The wind was howling, and when I glanced at the thermometer, it read 17. Again.

I put a couple more logs in the wood burner, returned to my recliner, pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes.

Time to go back to sleep. And dream.

This is a contributed opinion column. Bill White can be reached at whitebil1974@gmail.com. The views expressed in this piece are those of its individual author, and should not be interpreted as reflecting the views of this publication. Do you have a perspective to share? Learn more about how we handle guest opinion submissions at themorningcall.com/opinions.

https://www.mcall.com/2026/02/07/bill-white-dreaming-on-a-summers-day-yet-to-get-here/