August

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(Note: this is a silly sentimental blog, about the passage of time, daily life, getting older, etc. If you don’t like that kind of thing, stop reading now.)

 

 

Okay. Here goes:

 

 

I have always loved the month of August. In the Pacific Northwest where I grew up, it was usually the month in which we got some warm dry weather. As a kid, I knew it meant we were going back to school soon, but it didn’t seem to matter. Time seemed to stop in mid-August. It was (as my mother said) “beach weather”: sunny and warm and pleasant.

 

 

It’s no different here in Rhode Island. August can be brutally hot and humid here, but there are also days when it’s just – pleasant. The girls and I were sunning ourselves outdoors at lunchtime recently, and Cathleen said: “It’s a beach day.” And she was exactly right.

 

 

Sometimes there are storms, or long angry heatwaves. No matter. We know that September's right around the corner, and – whatever else happens – the weather changes in September. (Last year there was a hurricane working its way up the coast at the end of August. We lived through it.)

 

 

Sometimes – even in mid-August – there’s an occasional cool breeze. It seems to come out of nowhere. It’s a foretaste of autumn, get it? It’s a message that summer is not going to last forever.

 

 

And there are the Perseids. This is a meteor shower that happens around mid-August (this year’s peak comes next weekend, around the 11^th and 12^th of August). It is supposed to be one of the year’s most spectacular displays. (I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen a single bloody meteor. I’ve tried: I’ve waited up, and gone out in a lawn chair, and faced north. Not a single shooting star have I ever seen.)

 

 

Time stands still in mid-August. We know that summer is almost over: but it’s not over yet. The office is quiet, because so many people are away. The streets are quiet, because so many people are on vacation. Labor Day’s right around the corner, and the return to work will happen soon.

 

 

But we don’t need to think of that, do we?

 

 

Not yet, anyway.

 

 

Bring on the Perseids.

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