The following is from an article in the NY times:
The Fourth of July is approaching and with it the promise, or threat, of another long, hot summer..."It was now the third week in September; the dry, dust-laden air vibrated steadily to the rapid beat of the engine, though so close were the steam and the air in temperature that no exhaust was visible but merely a thin feverish shimmer of mirage. The very hot, vivid air, which seemed to be filled with the slow laborious plaint of laden wagons, smelled of lint; wisps of it clung among the dust-stiffened roadside weeds and small gouts of cotton lay imprinted by hoof- and wheel-marks into the trodden dust."— “The Hamlet,” by William Faulkner
...It serves as a reminder, as if there were any danger of forgetting, that of all the seasons, summer can be the cruelest.
Winter’s punishments fall with blunt directness: short days, frigid nights, the blizzard that brings our activities to a halt. Summer bewitches and betrays. It seduces with gentle breezes and bursts of color, with languorous days and with the lure of freedom and idle hours. But daylight can yield to the forces of what Walt Whitman once called the “mad naked summer night.” Inhibition melts away, like so many protective layers, and our darker selves emerge. The days and nights of unrelenting heat put people on edge. Tempers grow short, nerves fray, pent-up frustrations suddenly erupt...