While such former signposts of a Gulfshore summer seem almost quaint when now we remember them, we still can count on certain fundamental elements to let us know exactly where we stand in the yearly course of equinox to solstice, then equinox again. Nature, despite all the blows we've dealt it-black rivers of asphalt, dense copses of concrete and wells that suck the aquifer dry like long straws in a short cocktail glass-continues to come through.

Summer, for me, always begins with a crash-that initial bolt of lightning, the resultant roar of thunder, signaling the first rat-a-tat-tatting downpour of the season. Summer is the time when we must remind ourselves: Hot is good, sweat is even better, do not try to fight it. And the hotter it gets, the more hallucinogenic our skies. The sunsets this time of year-vermillion and purple and, heck, pick your Crayola-can be wild beyond belief. As for the flash of green, that fleeting spark upon the horizon when the sun seems to submerge itself? There are many who say it is but a myth, it doesn't really exist, and that you will surely burn out your eyeballs if you stare long into the west looking for it. Sorry, they're wrong. The flash of green lives. I've seen it. Twice. And yes, both times came during Gulfshore summers.

Summer has its subtleties. Slowly, with the blessed advent of daily afternoon rainstorms, the Gulf takes on a different hue. Gone is the shimmering blue of dry winter and spring. While the muddy outpour of creeks and rivers browns up the water in a way never depicted on glossy tourist brochures, it's feeding time for the fish. A friend tells me he knows it's summer when he finally starts catching snook on a regular basis . and has to throw them back, since June, July and August are closed seasons.

I have another friend who says it's not really summer here until you can wake up in the morning, walk down to the beach, jump in the Gulf and feel that the water is warmer than the air. 'Tis the season for God's own outdoor bathtub.

Yes, summer serves up a rich and varied feast. And to grab a convenient metaphor, so does this issue. We have a little bit of everything-fashion, food, fine living-but mostly we have a sense of place. Enjoy the season.