It’s early August, but even here in the Valley of the Sun there are signs that summer is winding down. Oh sure, we’ve got eight more weeks of heat and another month of possible monsoon, but the sun angle is not what it was, and as a result the pool temperature is starting to slide, even with the 100+ days. Today we dropped below 90 for the first time in a while; it will be interesting if the hot expected for the next week bump it back over 90. In pagan times, this was a time for celebrating the wheat harvest – me, I can already feel the urge to start putting the classical sounds of WCRI in Rhode Island and listen for some Boccherini. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves!!

I’ve always loved August. Back in our Dracut, MA condo days, the sunflower seeds I would toss out for the cardinals and blue jays during the winter and spring would have resulted in a line of beautiful sunflowers along our little back porch. Back in my teens, my grandfather’s gladiolus would be out in all kinds of beautiful colors by this time and we’d sell them by the side of the road for (I think) a dollar a dozen. Those were the days.

In New England the weather is changing so that whenever you get the humidity coming in it means lots of clouds and murky days. But all of a sudden, you’ll get that front that pushes out the clouds and brings in bright sunny days with that very first night that has a chill in the air. Aaah, it’s to die for. When that happens my Auntie Marge and Uncle Don, along with thousands of New Englanders, start making plans for their Florida winter getaway. For them it’s almost time to say adios. Here in Arizona, we start thinking about “Arizona winter”, that special time of year when you don’t have to shovel sunshine.

Here’s a lovely poem I think that sums up August and everything it is:

“A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze,
With labored respiration, moves the wheat
From distant reaches, till the golden seas
Break in crisp whispers at my feet.

My book, neglected of an idle mind,
Hides for a moment from the eyes of men;
Or lightly opened by a critic wind,
Affrightedly reviews itself again.

Off through the haze that dances in the shine
The warm sun showers in the open glade,
The forest lies, a silhouette design
Dimmed through and through with shade.

A dreamy day; and tranquilly I lie
At anchor from all storms of mental strain;
With absent vision, gazing at the sky,
“Like one that hears it rain.””
– James Whitcomb Riley, A Summer Afternoon

Hat tip: egreenway.com