I’ve always loved August.
I love the soupy air and the lazy afternoon light that casts a hazy glow on mossy slate patios
and algae speckled docks.
August is... forgiving.
It gently lends us the excuse to move a little more slowly,
to linger a little longer after late dinners outdoors.
August allows for a messy tangle of overgrown plants with droopy, heavy buds.
Whereas June and July bring a flurry of activity,
August says there is nothing wrong spending an entire afternoon reading in the yard,
with the summer symphony of buzzing insects and sprinklers in the background.
A friend said she felt August quickened her return to the fall too hastily- but I disagree.
I think it ushers us into the new season with a calm and seamless ease,
not nearly as abrupt as the turnover into winter.
image is my own
August is filled with trips to places I’ve been countless times before- but always hope to return again.
My usual adventure-seeking spirit longs for the familiar by summer’s end.
I’ll be spending the final dog days of August back on the east coast:
no work; no worries; minimal scheduled plans.
It’s been a continuous string of summer weekends filled with guests, weddings, and weekend road trips-
all of these preceded by work weeks that felt much, much too chaotic for the summer months.
I’ve tried to mask the more recent stresses of my job as best I could--my poor parents the sole recipients of painful, anxiety laden daily accounts of the day.
I have faith that the choices I am making will help spark change soon enough.
Until then, I am looking forward to long days and warm nights
and falling asleep to the sound of the katydids chirping in the moonlight.
Wishing you all lazy August days...