I have never fallen in love in the summer. At least not that I remember. My very first romance started in the summer, I do remember that. However, that was more an infatuation and in all honesty I don’t even remember the first ‘I love you’ anymore. Knowing the timeline they could have happened in the summer, but it’s more likely to have been in the autumn.
The summer you fell in love, for me, conjures up images of a passionate summer romance, forged through lazy days doing little in the sun. It makes me think of beaches and sand, of fields full of dry grass and blooming flowers, of swimming in lakes warmed by the sun. Of being somewhere far away from home, where the days are long and the weather is hot.
The idea of a summer love seems like a fleeting one. One that is forged in those beautiful days where life is easy and good. It’s a love that fizzles out once you’re back home, once the weather turns grey and wet and cold. Falling in love in summer is easy, staying in love once winter hits is hard.