I don't understand how the pace of summer can be at once frenetic and slow. The days are longer, the housework stays the same, the work load doesn't change; but friends visit, exceptions to bed time are frequent, more books are read, homework is traded for "Mama, I don't know what to do" (the word "bored" is not allowed). It is almost expected that the social calendar is more full, regardless of how introverted a person might be, or how much she longs for just a few quiet days at home with no obligation.
I try to seize the warm afternoons as often as possible, grabbing the picnic blanket and reading aloud in the shade of trees to the kids. But days pass, full of I-don't-know-what, and the season is passing way to quickly.