Wednesday, August 1, 2012

About August

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?


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.

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?


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….


  1. Brian, you are an original. Tell me: What if the days of the week were people, what would they look like?

  2. you want me to think...but good idea.

  3. My Tuesday and Thursday are look-alike sisters, elegant, dainty, and dressed in all-white gauzy gowns. Monday and Wednesday are burly blokes who hang out in British pubs. Bending elbows a lot. Saturday is a dapper fellow, a good dancer, who entertains with hilarious anecdotes. I am baffled by Friday and Sunday. I know Sunday is kinda blah.

    1. I like your characterizations. I usually think of these things as ambiguous anamorphic blobs…with attitude. But Sunday is obviously a priss who is holier than thou. Friday is a dude in a loud Hawaiian shirt wearing shades with one foot out the door.

  4. Sunday never got started until after 2 o'clock because of church and dinner with great aunts and such. Then it was time for doing homework, and if it was geometry, I'd be in for the long haul. Yep. You got Sunday and Friday right. Friday is a throwback to the beatnik era.


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