No matter how ingrained the memories, summer is not bound by geographic location (I'm thinking Kingsley Lake, the Adirondacks, Kiawah Island . . . while your thoughts are probably wandering somewhere else entirely). Nor is it a particular place (Camp Wingman, Aunt Gigi's dock on the intercoastal waterway, Whittington Little League Field). You don't need a tank of gas, a ferry ride or a time machine to get there because summer is a state of mind. And today we arrived. Summer is anywhere fireflies flicker, air conditioners hum and people stand in line for vanilla soft serve ice cream dipped in chocolate that hardens to delicious perfection. It's a whole shelf of mysteries begging to be read, a lemonade stand on every block and thumping watermelons to find the perfect one, then icing it down in a tin washtub for dessert. It's the casual Friday of seasons, a theme park for the senses, the perfect time to take a vacation from the routine. Set your GPS on summer, toss your cares out the window and enjoy the ride.