Under the shade of a tan umbrella I part the pages of my book, pull the spare chair under my feet and call to the boys as they begin an underwater treasure hunt.

"Don't run and jump out far from the step!"  I say with a big grin as they dive underwater for treasures valued with assigned points.  Sounds clearly tinny and crisp to them above waterline are muffled to a dull silence as their little streamline bodies swirl and kick just below the surface. 

This time of year the sun screams from a cloudless sky and stings your skin awake.  A cool splash in the water is a blanket of relief and the time between wet slick skin and dry is only moments as the moisture is pulled back into the air.  It has a way of tingling the hairs on your arms back to attention. 

The rule; no water guns are to be discharchged at mom.  She has a book in her hands. 

Other than that simple rule, there are none.  Jumping is allowed, screaming most definitely, laughing without abandon of course and watermelon eaten in the pool is the only way to eat it.  The sticky juice pours down chin, across faces and down elbows.  The rind is tossed to the side and a dive down under and back up washes a boy better than any bath I know. 

The song of the cicada arrives in Arizona just after June 21.  Their song is a sweet reminder of the mesquite smell of the BBQ, the friends poolside and music filling the afternoon.  In the early evening once the quiet comes upon us and the sun has taken a break from its day, we sit still and hear the cicada song, its buzzing a cue to my boys to announce officially; "Mom, the cicadas!  Summer is here!" 

"Yes it is.  Summer is here in Arizona, in all its stinging, sticky, sweet glory."