There were frogs to catch, and late-night shooting stars to watch. There were a million things to do in the summer. It always seemed too short to me. Later on, when I lived up in New England full-time, I got used to the rhythm of the seasons there. In New England, people say you've got nine months of winter, and 3 months of pretty poor sledding.
Snow is on the ground for close to seven months out of the year.
Most years, you have snow until the middle of April, and ice in the ponds until the first week of May. You have to start having a fire in the evening toward the end of August. The first frost hits about the first or second week of September. So, summer time, to me, was always when you got things done. My mother lives in Vermont, and her social schedule accelerates by a factor of ten after the first of June.