Pip the little squirrel hated summer the most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The sun was like a huge ball of fire, baking his tree hollow until it was toasty warm. His fluffy tail stuck together and drooped like a mop. \u201cIf only winter would come back right away,\u201d Pip sighed. \u201cCool snow, crisp ice\u2014how comfortable that would be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But summer was only halfway through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That afternoon, Pip was lying on a branch, lost in thought, when he suddenly heard a \u201cjingle-jingle\u2014jingle-jingle\u2014\u201d coming from beneath the tree. He peered down and saw Old Raccoon pushing a little white cart with a wooden sign hanging from it, on which was drawn a plump little cloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Pip asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the magic of summer,\u201d Grandpa Raccoon said with a smile. He opened the tin lid on the cart, and a puff of cool, white mist burst out, like a tiny cloud floating into the air. The mist carried a sweet scent\u2014strawberries, milk, and just a hint of sunshine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Grandpa used a round spoon to scoop a pink ball out of the tin bucket and place it on the crispy cone. \u201cHere, have a taste.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pip cautiously licked a little bit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWow\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In that instant, the cool, sweet treat melted on the tip of his tongue, like a tiny icy star exploding. He felt every hair on his body stand on end, then slowly lie back down. The coolness flowed like a stream from his mouth to his belly, and then all the way to the tip of his tail. His tail wasn\u2019t sticky anymore; it puffed up and curled, like a little fan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis is\u2026 this is\u2026\u201d Pip couldn\u2019t find the words, so he took another big lick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s ice cream.\u201d Grandpa Raccoon blinked. \u201cA secret hidden away by summer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From that day on, Pip went to see Grandpa Raccoon every day. He discovered vanilla\u2014like moonlight mixed with milk; chocolate\u2014like tree bark but a hundred times tastier; and mint\u2014which sent a cool breeze through his ears when he ate it. Grandpa Raccoon also taught him how to make \u201cRainbow Layers\u201d: blueberries at the bottom, banana in the middle, and a bright red strawberry candy ball on top, like a little hat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pip no longer hated summer. He began to discover that summer had the chirping of cicadas as background music, a warm breeze blowing on his back, and the excitement and joy of quickly licking up each drop as the ice cream slowly melted in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One evening, Pip sat in the treetops holding his last scoop of ice cream, watching the sunset. The sky was ablaze with the color of orange marmalade, and the evening breeze was gentle and warm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf winter comes,\u201d he muttered to himself, \u201cwill the ice cream disappear?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Old Raccoon had appeared beneath the tree at some point and said with a smile, \u201cWinter has its own magic, and summer has its own. But you know, as long as you remember this taste, the ice cream will always be here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pip thought for a moment, then slowly swallowed the last bite of ice cream. As the coolness slid down his throat, he suddenly felt that the summer heat wasn\u2019t so bad after all\u2014because it was the heat that made the coolness so precious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He crawled into the tree hollow, curled his fluffy tail into a little pillow, and closed his eyes. A hint of strawberry\u2019s sweetness lingered on his tongue, cool and refreshing, like a piece of candy made of dreams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside the window, the stars began to twinkle one by one, and the summer evening breeze gently rustled the leaves, as if whispering, \u201cSleep, sleep\u2014there\u2019s more ice cream tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pip smiled. He dreamed of winter\u2014but the winter snow tasted like strawberries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Good night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Ice Cream in Summer<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":480,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[21,18],"class_list":["post-478","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-children","tag-children","tag-story"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/478","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=478"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/478\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":481,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/478\/revisions\/481"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/480"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=478"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=478"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=478"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}