Beware the ides of August
And the long shadows of evening autumnal creep
The bulk of summer is past.
Here in the third week of August, the bulk of my children’s summer holidays have passed.
Back to school sales have been plaguing the mall for a month now.
Next week the Christmas sales will begin, after that, I hear the funeral home is having a sale. It’s never a bad idea to be prepared I guess.
Though many in our society want us to mark seasonal changes with flyers, sales and fashion that’s fast and ugly, I’m enchanted with the changing of the light.
I start noticing sometime in the first week of February. A drive home is at twilight, not in the pitch dark. By March, it’s obvious. The days are longer. Summer is coming.
April is always a mess.
May is an ambitious month, full of hope and anticipation of the change in season. What will it be like? Oooohhhhh! The things we will do. The places we’ll go. The things we’ll eat. Every moment. We’ll swallow every moment. Whole. May. Short on letters, big on imagination.
I’ll stay up late. I’ll good enough for swimming. There will be no frost. I’ll even stay up late and watch that scary tee vee show where the human reads the weather. It will be nothing but fun. And we won’t talk about ‘the accident’.
Yeah, the accident. When I brought snow and everyone was angry with me.
Right. don’t do that. People here will neither appreciate nor enjoy any May that brings snow. They don’t get the joke. I’m guessing the subtlety of May’s ‘February’ impersonation gets lost with many people.
May was a generous month. It left us snap peas and leafy greens, leaving room for June to come to the table. June is filled with the salad days of summer. Eager and earnest, June is ambitious. June wants to be hot. June would like to have beach days. June wants to be summer.
June is that middle child month. It’s very adaptive. June tries to keep the peace between the manic episodes of May and the comfort and freedom found in July. June is the hero’s journey eventually delivering us to the longest day of the year and the beginning of summer. I’m bright! The Brightest of all months!
Good for you June.
Good for you.
July is busy. If July were a month it would be a wedding planner. Schedules. Lists. Clipboards. Phone calls. July has an agenda. Anything is possible in July, just as long as you can fit it in. Just don’t tell them about my time in the adult entertainment industry. July is a month where its excesses sometimes have led to regret.
Things are so over heated on these long bright days that you’re moist most of the time. July is so damn moist that it’s sometime difficult to tell where your arse ends and the damp rags clinging to it begin.
Molds, mildews, funguses and farts all take on lives of their own. Weekends roll into weeks of distraction, activities and family fun.
After a grade ‘A’ type July, August ambles up upon us. If I were in charge, I’d change ‘August’ to ‘Jeffrey Lebowski”. I wouldn’t be naming it after the big Lebowski, the fraud, but after The dude. August is the dude. It’s a little high from smoking roaches, chilled out from White Russians and simply wants to enjoy the pleasure of knocking down wooden sticks with a heavy epoxy ball with three holes in it.
Sure, August (aka Jeffery Lebowski) is a bit more dim than it’s twin July. The evenings are more chill. Shadows show up much sooner, much longer, much earlier in the evening.
August brings a bitter sweet sadness with it. Spectacular sunsets become standard issue. They take place at prime time. And oh what a show August puts on.
Once the sun is gone, the Perseids arrive drawing our eyes to the heavens. As the meteors burn up and sprinkle more star dust on all of us, Augusts’ late summer gift is a reminder that we are but a speck in a vast and uncaring universe.
August invites us to look to the stars and remember how small, limited and delicate we are. August, as old as time itself, gently invites us to take in information (light) that was created millions of years ago and reflect on just how impermanent, insignificant and tiny even the biggest of human lives are. Thank you August.
You’re very welcome fool.
You don’t have long now. My work here is almost done.
I love August. It reminds me that as we move forward, our time in the light is limited. Our time together is limited. The furry of fall and chaos of winter await. But for now?
We have each other.
Time is short and running out for all of us.
We can waste it running around like July, urgently accomplishing things.
We can linger in the long shadows of August and gaze up into its vast skies, and savor every moment.