....bittersweet

Yogis,
Every year August begs to be put into words. Not this year, I say to myself, yet she keeps pointing out that there is more to notice. She’s right. I love August so I listen and put pen to paper.

I love July too though. The bright days, vivid colors and intensity. A month filled with a partylike atmosphere ushered in by summer. Fireworks and parades. Scorching heat. Sweat and rollercoasters. The sun, like a late-night partier, still hanging out when I head to bed.

August though, feels softer. Quieter. The sense we have gone over the peak. Still summer…..still warm…..still colorful. Yet not quite.

Bittersweet.

I love how August begins to throw in some mornings where the thermometer reads in the 60s and an unexpected cool breeze blows through while dining outside. Blissful to the skin, yet deep inside a knowing that it is a precursor of what lies ahead, even while afternoons climb to the 80s. I push the feeling back down. Not yet.

There are still flowers left to bloom. Goldenrod is on the cusp of her time in the sun. Cardinal flower shines her brilliant red blossoms from the damp corners of my yard. A favorite for hovering hummingbirds. Yet many flowers are beginning to fade. Most of the echinacea is drying now. A bonanza for goldfinches who feast on their seeds.  

Bathing suit departments cleared for school supplies.

Bittersweet.

So, I eat corn on the cob and peaches with a hint of urgency as they too will soon disappear. Pumpkins will replace watermelons in the blink of an eye. Next week glimpses of yellow passing school buses will join the hue of goldenrod.

No, summer is not over. The hum still remains. Peppers, basil and tomatoes continue making August dinners special and I still have a whole week at the beach ahead. Shorts, sandals and t-shirts. I will make time for more ice cream cones and boardwalk games.

But an image of me pulling on jeans for the first time lies just beneath the surface.

Bittersweet,
SARAH