August is here sooner than usual, it seems. The summer so far has been marked by many rainy, unsettled days and cooler than average temperatures. Haying season in our part of the world is running later than normal?if there’s anything normal about farming, that is. Thoughts turn to the upcoming harvest. Will it too be late?
Maybe It’s my imagination but I think the flowers in the yard are looking a bit tired already (though the lilies are blooming their little hearts out). The nights are getting cooler, and the days noticeably shorter.
Finally you can buy blueberries in a container larger than a pint without having to hawk your jewellery first. Nine dollars for four pounds of those precious, antioxidant-loaded little morsels of goodness seems like a deal. Last year I bought several containers and repacked and froze dozens of one-cup serving sized bags.
For those women who are bakers, canners, picklers, or jam makers this is the beginning of a busy, bountiful time of reaping what has been sown. All I’ve got are green onions to chop up and freeze. The dill I planted succumbed to the weeds in my tiny garden plot.
August marks a niece’s 15th birthday, Greg and Carrie’s sixth anniversary, and our 35th. There are also two grad parties to attend on the same night, wouldn’t you know. Oh, and Hilary’s moving. Again.
August first is the halfway mark as summer marches resolutely into autumn. For teachers and students It’s half over. It’s hard to know who’s more distraught over the realization. It’s the start of back-to-school shopping for supplies and clothes.
I love the stationery departments overflowing with paper products, pens and pencils, and all the extra must-haves. I’ve been watching the sales flyers and visiting computer departments waiting for a back-to-school deal on a new laptop. My six-year-old Toshiba hasn’t given up the ghost yet but I’m fed up with the small screen, USB ports in the back, and no built-in wireless card.
As much as August signals coming changes it also means smiles. Fairs, rodeos, and show ?n? shines fill the remaining weekends of summer. Tonight I drove past the Tim Hortons in Fort Saskatchewan and saw about a hundred motorcycles in the parking lot. Some people know how to seize the day and enjoy.
I inevitably smile when I see vintage cars rolling down the highway. It may be a candy-apple red ?57 Chevy or a lime-green muscle car from the ?70s. These guys are cruising down the road, window down, arm resting on the door, taking it cool. They know they look good, they know heads are turning. they’re not tailgating or cutting people off; they’re enjoying every moment.
We’ve got four antiques: a ?37 Olds, ?67 Monaco, ?70 Super Bee, and ?72 Nova. I can’t remember the last time we went cruising.
Let’s see, finish making the hay or go cruising? The answer is clear, from where I sit.
