It's finally here.

Summer. Just the word evokes nostalgia of summers past and brings excitement and hope for summers to come. That word contains our favorite smells; of sunscreen on skin, the ocean or a lake, Chlorine from the pool, mowed grass and, here in Montana, just a faint hint of wildfire smoke. It houses the feeling of that first summer sunburn, when you fry as red as a lobster and all your skin peels off but all you can do is look at your less-than-ideal reflection in the mirror and grin your face off because in some way, that sunburn is one of the most beautiful things you've seen after a fall, winter, and spring spent in school. It's evidence that proves you're alive and present in the world, even when everything seams so surreal. For me, my summer is mostly about Ethiopia, and though that will be one of the most incredible experiences of my life, fundraising impinges on my social life on a nearly daily basis. Despite that, though, this summer has already given me some of the things every person craves for the short free months: A bonfire, surrounded by all the people who needed to be there at that time, bike rides at dusk, time on the front porch with my family, a wicked sunburn and a Chaco tan already, late nights spent reading To Kill A Mockingbird, a booth at the farmer's market, reinventing myself (again), marshmallows cooked my favorite way (scorched black on the outside and gooey on the inside), and best of all so far, sunsets, stretched and painted across the sky. The number of sunsets I witness mean nothing, they grab my eyes, my heart, and my soul, and hold it there until the last color is gone. Every time. I don't know what plans you have for the summer, but please, make this one count. It is what you make it, people. These less than three months under the glassy blue dome could very well be the best of your life. That's my plan, anyway. If you read this and want to share your summer stories, hopes, or dreams, write or tell them to me, I'm all ears.