The best thing about August is it’s not September…or October…or any of the
other brrrrrrrrrrr months.
But they're getting close….and that makes a lot of us feel a little claustrophobic, as if the season of lilting leaves is starting to close in on us.
Yeah…I know…a little dramatic.
Some folks call it the dog days of summer....
Not sure how the dogs feel about that...let alone August.
August is actually one of the busiest vacation months there is; probably one
of the nicest as well.
After a hot sweltering start, a gift passed on from its pal July, August often begins to cool a little, especially in the evenings.
The muggy haze of a sweltering mid-summer begins to give way to a succession
of clear comfortable nights where the stars are just a fingertip away.
So enjoy it and stop your whining….
August is really kind of like the Wednesday of months. Kind of stuck in a bad spot on the calendar, through no fault of its own.
I mean really, when you think about it, it’s not that much different than July…without the fireworks.
Besides...have any of us been all that thrilled with July's performance this year?
July....
The beaches are in peak form in August. The water is warm, when you need it to be warm and cool when you need it to be cool.
August is very accommodating in that way…in a lot of ways…it has to be.
Not like July who just has to phone it in sometimes….
Everyone loves July, the quintessential summer month.
And June…well, everyone waits for June…all year long.
It’s June…It’s June…It’s June!
Like we’ve all hit the lottery or something…
But that’s what happens after 4 or 5 months of long, cold nights and stark, frigid days.
In fact, in a lot of years—like this year—June can be just plain dank and dreary. But all it take is a couple of days, back to back, where it’s 80 degrees and sunny, and we’re all running around like we’d been living in a hovel all winter and had never seen the sun before.
Well, maybe just me…and that was mostly just the 90’s.
If I had to assign a color to June—which I don’t but I will, cuz I can basically do whatever I want here, unless Z gives me that look that makes certain parts of my body shrink and run away—it would be a bright golden band of sunlight creeping over the early morning horizon.
July…a blend of bright yellow and ocean blue.
August…the burnt orange of a sunset sky as the sun slips past the edge of an inlet bay at rest.
I know….
If I had to assign a feeling—which I don’t but I will, cuz…well, you know—June would be the heady lightness you feel when you’ve finally achieved a long sought after goal.
July… the lazy barefoot contnentment of a sea side afternoon, marking the the sun as it amble across the southern sky.
August…well, that pit you get in your stomach when you turn the calendar and see September hiding there in that little preview box below. The unnerving recognition of the shadow on the kitchen floor slanting just a bit more severely than you recall from a week ago. The resignation of going to the store with your mom to buy new clothes for school.
In June, the band is still tuning up for the party.
July, the band is in full swing.
August, the music is still playing…the folks are still dancing….but you know…the play list is dwindling towards the end.
That’s what poor August has to deal with…so you can see why it might feel a bit on the bittersweet side.
The truth is, we’d all take August over February…anytime. And down under, on
the other side of the globe, that’s the month that equates to their August, in this, their last hurrah of winter.
How do you feel in February…like the winter will never end?
Yeah….
So let’s give August a break and see it for what it is. Four more weeks of fun in the sun and drinks on the beach…or whatever your preference may be.
And if I’m not mistaken, summer is still officially on for at least seven more.
The calendar is just a state of mind.
The mind is whatever you want it to be.
The same is true for August… so don’t waste it.
There you go August…I just did you a solid….just like I promised.
Now don’t screw it up.
And don’t tell Wednesday.
That’s all I need….
Follow on Twitter @FreelanceRetort
For more of “The Freelance Retort” visit http://freelanceretort.blogspot.com/
Retort to the Retort - FreelanceRetort@gmail.com
No need to apologize….
January was mid-year. And June was the sweet end zone. Even now ... I'm a retired Mr. Chips ... I cannot shake that rhythm. Nor do I want to. What has changed is my unending enjoyment of autumn which I always seemed to miss because of the high energy of a new year. Now, life is slower and I can pay attention. And autumn is the best time of year. Nothing like watching the summer's shrubs and plants go to sleep. And day's shorten ... because I'm a fan of the dark. I adore the warmish but not-so-hot days and more adore the coolish nights ... with no need for canned coolness. And the colors? When is the world more beautiful than in the fall? I've got enough kid in me to still get cheery-stooopid over a plunge in temperatures or the threat of a snow shower. Nothing signals the season like the reappearance of the comforter or having something very hearty back on the menu. And I suddenly pay attention to the fireplace because that's still a mesmerizing invention as far as I'm concerned. I think I'm a bit jaded because, unlike others, I can flip off summer ... because I'm not heading' back to school now. See, I can have my summer whenever I want. And I always choose the fall.
I actual wrote this story in response to a couple of teacher friends of mine, whose jaw and neck muscles visibly tighten each year once the calendar page flips to August. They love to teach, and their students, but summer feels so much shorter now than when we were 7. I just wanted to show them that it’s all really just a state of mind. But I have to admit, you do make fall and winter seem very appealing...I'm getting my flannels out....
Follow on Twitter @FreelanceRetort
But most of those people are not allowed to untie their jacket sleeves. Follow on Twitter @FreelanceRetort
When nature boils more, well, I never apologize for a bed-flop and the magic of air conditioning ... until the day starts to lose its temperature. Then it's Irish siesta. Most times, the late afternoon brings improvement ... and the evenings always seem to give up the heat outside. Inside? A different story. Hot and clammy and tacky and airless. So the deck becomes the center for it all ... family, friends and food. Easy stuff. And later in the evening it's nice and solitary. Just cicada chants and buzzin' fire-flies ... and the chipmunk show over near the wall. Great time and spot to read and write and make some calls ... and watch the day get swallowed by the night. Just put the brakes on and dream September here. Can't speak to your hot coffee observation because I'm a confirmed addict. Coffee's never off the table. Not sure if it makes me cool, but it makes me sit straight up. One last thing. If you can, give the clock no homage at all. That's not my invention. The internal time clock is the one to listen to. The other does nothing but cut off sweet times.