I’m in a holding pattern, going through spring but waiting for summer, which seems to be finally arriving. I’ve been grumbling to myself a little, too, until I heard in my head a co-worker’s voice saying, “Collect the good thoughts.” So I paused to think of some of the times of pure bliss I’ve had from summers in Maine to keep me looking ahead.

Randomly, these images come to me, so randomly I present them.

Not surprisingly, since summer involves treats, I remember going to Strafford Farms in Scarborough as a child, dressed in my pj’s, in the car with my family. The ice cream was so creamy it would start to melt as my parents were carrying my cone back to the car.

Now I look forward to sitting on the deck of Martel’s in Saco with my favorite flavor or taking out a dish from Willard Scoops to the Head Light.

Although Rumford isn’t a vacation spot, I spent many days there over past summers visiting relatives. I remember swinging on my Grandmother Sullivan’s swing, sitting out in lawn chairs or playing croquet with the Hamann cousins.

I fondly remember summer days sitting out on the lawn with my parents at their house, wishing days like those could last forever.

A past fun Fourth of July was spent at Rangeley with my friend Nancy and her family. A fun recent one was with my co-workers Bill and Jane at the South Portland Historical Society, with “Ben Franklin” reading the Declaration of Independence.

I thank my other friends for summer memories, too. Each year Diane and John invite me to their porch on their farmhouse in Durham. I enjoy the quiet of the country.

There’s also peacefulness at another good friend’s camp on Pequawket Lake. While listening to the sounds of the birds, we have a leisurely dinner at dusk. There was a beautiful night when my friends Sue and John and I drove up to Cadillac Mountain to see it during a full moon.

Cousin Elmer and Gladys enlighten me about family history on the porch of their summer house in York.

When I’m sitting at Willard Beach, I gaze out on the islands in Casco Bay, reminiscing about mailboat cruises I’ve taken around those same islands.

And who of a certain age wouldn’t want to look back and think of Old Orchard Beach when it had Noah’s Ark and the merry-go-round?

When I want to visualize Portland in the 1800s, I go sit on the iron garden furniture in Longfellow’s Garden.

If I miss the blueberry patch near the family house, I think of the spot I go now, where I feel as if I’m a thousand miles from town.

Vacationing on Mount Desert Island, I’ll window-shop at the antique wicker shop in Bernard, wishing I was from old money. Having dinner at the Asticou, I pretend I’m from old money.

Soon my daydreams of summer will end. Then I’ll shout, “Goodbye, spring, and hurrah, summer!”

– Special to the Telegram