Douglas laughed. They went down in the cellar with Grandpa and while he decapitated the flowers they looked all the summer shelved and glimmering there in the motionless streams, the bottles of dandelion wine. Numbered from one to ninety-odd, there the ketchup bottles, most of them full now, stood burning in the cellar twilight, one for ever living summer day.
     "Boy" said Tom, "what a swell way to save June, July and August. Real practical".
     Grandfather looked up, considered this, and smiled.
     "Better than putting things in the attic you never use again. This way, you get to live the summer over for a minute or two here or there along the way through the winter, and when the bottles are empty the summer's gone for good and no regrets and no sentimental trash lying about for you to stumble over forty years from now. Clean, smokeless, efficient, that's dandelion wine."
     The two boys pointed along the rows of bottles.
     "There's the first day of summer!"
     "There's the new tennis shoes day!"
     "Sure! And there's the Green Machine!"
     "Buffalo dust and Ching Ling Soo!"
     "The Tarot Witch! The Lonely One!"
     "It's not really over," said Tom, "It'll never be over. I'll remember what happened on every day of this year, for ever."
      "It was over before it began," said Grandpa, unwinding the wine press, "I don't remember a thing that happened except some new type of grass that wouldn't need cutting."
      "You're joking!"
      "No, sir, Doug, Tom, you'll find as you get older the day kind of blur... can't tell one from the other..."
      "But, heck," said Tom , "On Monday this week I roller-skated at Electric Park, Tuesday I ate chocolate cake, Wednesday I fell in the crick, Thursday fell off a swinging vine, the week's been full of things! And today, I'll remember today because the leaves outside are beginning to get all red and yellow. Won't be long they'll be all over the lawn and we'll jump in piles of them and burn them. I'll never forget today! I'll always remember, I know!"
      Grandfather looked up through the cellar window at the late-summer trees stirring in a colder wind. "Of course you will, Tom," he said, "Of course you will."