The air is perfect. The temperature is so right that I can't even feel it on my skin. An occasional, gentle, cool breeze ruffles my hair, just enough to be refreshing.
The cicadas chirruping fills the air, cleverly they have synchronised into a rhythmic beat of sound.
"All The Light We Cannot See", by Anthony Doerr. I am really into it, but I keep getting distracted by all this glorious nature. So the pages turn slower than usual. But that's okay.