Fall may be creeping closer on the calendar, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way when temperatures in Kansas still flirt with 100 degrees, and the trees remain stubbornly green. So I went searching for something that still felt like summer—and found it in these old photographs of Kermit, Eunice, and their children at the Miller farm.

No date is written on the prints, but the scalloped edges and Kodak Velox paper place them somewhere in the 1940s or 1950s. Raymond looks to be around eleven or twelve, with Wayne and Wava just a few years behind him. What we can see clearly is a family enjoying a warm day outdoors, taking turns riding a gentle, light‑colored horse under the shade of tall trees.

I once asked Eunice why she never had horses of her own. She told me simply that horses were meant to work—that on the farm, they were helpers, not companions. I tried to argue that she could check the cows faster on horseback, but she just smiled and said her cows always came to her. Her childhood responsibilities kept her inside the house, far from the horses she rarely had reason to handle. That memory always tugged at me, because I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of horses. Yet here, in these photos, Eunice looks perfectly at home in the saddle—calm, steady, and ready for whatever path lay ahead.

The tonal contrast in the images gives them a timeless glow: the bright coat of the horse against the deep shadows of the trees, the soft summer light warming every face. Each rider—Kermit, Eunice, and the children—wears a quiet smile, savoring the simple joy of being together on a sunny day. And for a moment, looking at these photos, it feels like summer is still here.