Count The Great White Shank among those who think August is one of the, if not the, best months of the year. There’s something so precious about it, I have a hard time articulating what it is. From my youth in Tewksbury, Mass. August is about vacations, and hazy and muggy summer days just begging for September and the drop in humidity that would lead to doors and windows no longer sticking, and afternoon thunderstorms where we’d sit on our front porch watching them roll in, then dance in the street ponds created by late-afternoon downpours. Not to mention the fact that by August the ocean in New England – even up to the coast of southern Maine – actually becomes swimmable.

As I’ve grown older August has more of a soft, sweet, and sentimental meaning, like when summer becomes an adjective instead of a noun – “Did you not know? We’re summering in Newport for the next two weeks.” In my grand August fantasy I’m doing the Bellevue Avenue circuit, attending afternoon soirees, one twin on my left arm, the other on my right, hob-nobbing with the snooty boat owners and land owners, drinking glasses of pinot grigio and chardonnays on grand lawns set by the ocean. In reality, I’ve got it almost as good – the twins and I hanging out on the patio and our new boardwalk, watching the dust storms blow in and hope they don’t rip our queen palms to shreds.

It’s the New Englander in me that enjoys August so much because we learned it to be so precious: the days are already starting to get noticably shorter, the corn, tomatoes, and gladiolas are out in a stunning way, the opening of school just over the horizon. August was something to cherish, to try and hold on to as long as you could. Because after that you know what was coming – the annual ritual of starting to prepare for the long winter months ahead. Of course, here in Arizona there’s no such thing: the kids are already back to school next week, and there’s really no need to do anything except enjoy the nightly monsoon fireworks before it peters out ahead of September and those last brutally hot weeks before the heat god flips the switch the second week of October.

Welcome, August!