Old Lady August

Ah, August.

I have a difficult relationship with August. It's suffocatingly hot, stuffy and those nasty cicadas are making that horrid noise high up in the trees (which is just plain creepy when you think about it). Summer is ending. School is starting.

August is a sad month, in my opinion (which, for the record is really all this blog is. I'm sure you figured that out by now, and hopefully, you share my opinion sometimes). It reeks of an ending, which is bitter in so many ways. It's like an elderly women, whose beauty, charm and allure are but memories.

But last night, I was shown a lovelier side of August that I am not sure I have ever seen before.

August was suddenly a cool, unexpected breeze.

August was tall, soft grass tickling my toes.

August was a game of tag.

August was appreciating a sip of cold water.

August was crickets and grasshoppers leaping about.

August was the sun setting gently.

Yes, those creepy cicada things were making that revolting noise, I got bitten by a chigger/mosquito/other blood sucking thing or two and there was a lot more sweating and stickiness than I would have liked, but last night, August was beautiful.

Last night, August wasn't the end of the summer. It was precious final days, like kissing a dying Grandparent. There was a finality about it, but there was also something sweet, perfect and necessary about it. Summer days are drawing to a close, but the August is a half open door. I tasted the sweet in August and savored the bitter.

I will admit my favorite thing about it was that it didn't feel like a hundred degrees outside, which is my biggest issue with August. They say it's a cold front from Canada (I love Canada today), but maybe it's just August out to prove me wrong. I can see her being ornery like that. She may not have the youthful beauty of May, but she is witty.

I can hear the cicadas singing now...