August 1, 2014
It seems to me that August is a strange month. Time slows in August. The days seem to have extra minutes that are stolen from too fast nights. Maybe it's the angle of sun because for a few fleeting days my little sunroom glows golden in those last moments before the sun dips below the treetops. Right on schedule the big tulip poplar has begun its annual shedding of single yellow leaves.
Buck doesn't bother my big flower pots, though. I think he's seen me wield the broom at the rabbits.
Tomorrow we'll make our way down the lane to my cousin's house for a family picnic and to remember what makes us family. It's an August theme for a lot of families.
I expect August won't be a very productive month on the writing front. It's time to enjoy the evenings on the patio or in the pool. Western Maryland is known for being hazy, hot and humid in August and slowing down and relaxing is a survival strategy. Who cares the pool is small and not all that deep when the water is ninety-two degrees in August? Not me.
Now it's time to step outside and shoo Buck away from the hosta. I think he's had enough for one day.