During the month of August, in the northeastern US, we watch as summer fades into the promised glory of autumn. The weather is changeable. One day it’s overcast, gloomy and 70 degrees. Or it could be sunny and 85 as it is today.
I sit on the patio, in the shade of a lovely ornamental Japanese maple, its leaves waving faintly. The sun is hot and I had my fair share of it yesterday. The shade is welcome today. Nearby a chickadee calls out. A soft splash signals birds stopping for a drink and/or a quick bath.
Lovely surroundings, yet the word doldrums appears in the title of this post. We associate doldrums with sadness or depression. And yet, this is August. The name of the month means reverent or distinguished. How may that jibe with a state of stagnation?
It’s nice to live in an area where there is a distinct change of seasons. The one drawback is each season is finite. August marks, for me, the slow slide into the end of the growing season, the end of summer freedom before school begins, the last frenzied flurry of summer activities.
Stagnation envelopes the surroundings. There will be no more green growth. The sun will weaken in its strength and visit us for a shorter time each day. Days will grow shorter. Vegetation will die off and become crackly and brown.
As gloomy as this may sound, it’s merely preparation for autumn – a glorious season in its own right. For now, it’s best to enjoy the last of August as summer drifts away. “Nobody on the road/Nobody on the beach/I feel it in the air/The summer’s out of reach…”. “Boys of Summer” Don Henley
“The mists hang low in the morning hours/And the smell of harvest grows more strong./The calendar cries the last day of August-/And summer has lingered a little too long.” From Summer Must Go by Lenore Hetrick
Stories Are For Eternity 