By Mattie McAlavy
She isn’t aptly named.
Summer the season is heat, heat, heat and dappled skin and sweat and laughter on a breeze. Popsicles melting, sweet tea sweating, heavy green boughs sighing in the sun. A feeling.
Summer (the) Baker is “dynamite with a laser beam” – pinpoint-direct and molten and focused, focused ‘chaos.’ A bright grin, sharp laugh, a sharper, heart-stopping wink. A true killer queen.
Hers is an overwhelming abundance of assertions, spunk, spitfire…and sorrow: The off-kilter feeling when you find yourself sitting in the shade with an old friend, commiserating (sometimes darkly) and gulping the last of the day’s lemonade as the streetlights and fireflies filter on for the night.
She is incredibly aptly named.
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