A metal tub filled with ice-cold water gleams beneath a furious sun. 

The white paint burns the eyes. Heat steams up from the freshly watered flowerbeds. 

The blinding glare of a summer day- one of many more still waiting for us. The air is heavy, breathless, boiling. 

“Jump in, you little rascal!” 

D. steps into the water. I crouch beside him. The green watering can swings into action- a bright silver stream hisses down over our heads. 

Carefree smells of petunias and tastes like kvass.