On August...

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...