the new month of mildew….
I remember August. It was always one of my favorite months, even way back when it meant the end of summer freedom and the impending start of a new school year. There was something about the smell of the air, and the feel of it, that was both invigorating and restful at the same time.
August first was the day we changed the page on the calendar and the day Mother Nature flipped a switch and changed the air.
It always seemed that August brought an end to the humidity of July, but the days remained hot enough for the beach, pool, or swimming hole. The clouds always looked different, and the sky took on that crisp decidedly blue color, replacing the ambivalent haze that often added to the discomfort of July.
Cicadas marked the afternoon. Crickets and fireflies owned the night. At fourteen, I’d take my sleeping bag to the woods, find a clearing, and go to sleep staring at the absolutely unhampered night sky, watching shooting stars and exploring unknown galaxies.
I don’t think there is an August anymore. The sound of the summer afternoon seems to be more about thunder and rain than of lawnmowers and kids. The dew point is where the temperature should be, and the temperature should be in Georgia, not central Maine. My driveway is sprouting moss. A deep breath is taken, not out of appreciation, but at the mercy of air conditioning and Combivent.
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By a Damsite 