It’s August now.
August has always been my favorite of the summer months. My relationship with July has never been the best, though I admit it’s improved in the last few years. Back when I detested any temperature over, say, 73 degrees, I found July to generally be 31 days of torture where any minute spent outside the comforts of force-air cooling was akin to some form of Medieval torture. August, however? August is still warm–it can be just as hot as July–but usually August starts to see the shift toward more comfortable air, with cooler and less humid nights. Also, August is when the shortening of the days starts to be noticeable at last: I am a lover of night, and its return is something to cheer.
August is, really, the first of my five favorite months of the year. The light seems a bit more golden, and the stars begin to brighten.
I’m happy you’re here, August.