Conjure up a handful of your most cherished memories. Some will date from childhood. Others will be of decidedly adult happenings. Some will evoke distant places. Others will be nearer to home. Some will make you feel unambiguously happy. Most will elicit a wistful pang.

Only one feature, I wager, will hold across these reveries: the season. Whatever the event being summoned, it is likely to play out against improbably beatific sunshine. Or a high-pollen haze, as though a crop-duster had just released a cache of gold shavings.

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