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On breathless summer days in southern Indiana, when the river basin heat made the earth feel as if it were on fire, one neighborhood mother could transform the afternoon simply by pulling out a lawn sprinkler.

Word traveled quickly. We raced home, changed into swimsuits and returned ready to cool off. The kind of sprinkler waiting in the yard often determined what games we played.

Our favorite was a small, flat sprinkler with pinholes arranged in a circle. Water burst from it in a daisy-shaped pattern, and its low profile made it perfect for jumping over while running back and forth.

Another model resembled an alien spacecraft, with two sturdy legs and a nozzle that spun water in a circle. It was too clunky to leap over easily, but we could stand in place and wait for the spray to swing around.

My parents owned what is now called a Gardena Ecoline Rectangular Sprinkler. Two rods formed its base, while a third moved above them and sent water sweeping from side to side. Its spray traveled farther, but the frame was difficult to clear, making it less popular with the neighborhood children.

The least exciting option was my parents’ Aqua Queen Soaker Hose. To us, it was “dullsville” because it did little more than release dozens of thin streams. A 1951 photograph captured us sitting on the hot concrete driveway in front of the concealed hose. Bonnie, the neighbor with the strict mother, wore a bathing cap, while Susie and I had wet hair plastered to our heads.

This was years before the Slip ’N Slide became popular, but we still found ways to skid across soaked grass. Scraped knees were common, followed by a run home for a bandage that rarely stuck to wet skin. Grass stains were practically guaranteed.

When the games ended, we returned home dripping and often left wet footprints across our mothers’ freshly waxed kitchen floors. It may sound tame now, but for us, a sprinkler on a blazing afternoon was the height of summer entertainment.