A few weeks ago, I wrote about the Perfect July Summer, when summer was at its peak. The weather was stinking hot, the days were long, and everything felt young and fresh.
Well, July came and went. We’re in the 2nd week of Augst now, and Summer is no longer young.
No, Summer has now matured and has reached its middle-age, and the tell-tale signs are there.
For one thing, the raspberries are finished, and the canes are starting to dry out and turn yellow.
So are the lily pads on the lakes.
And the trees. Dammit…the trees.
A few are already starting to change.
At first, I tell myself it’s a fluke. Surely that tree must just be sick.
But I’m only in denial.
Because like it or not, more and more trees are starting to change, every day.
It’s also getting dark early. My criteria for “early summer” is that it has to be bright out at 9:00 PM.
But I now reluctantly admit that time has passed. It’s now getting dark at 8:30 and we’re losing more and more daylight every day.
We’ve also had some cold nights. This weekend it got down to 5C (That’s the low 40’s for our American friends). I’ve actually had to put a jacket on.
I always feel a bit wistful this time of year. A sadness that things are inevitably winding down.
Nooooo! I tell myself. It was still July just 10 days ago! Summer cant’ be ending! It CAN’T!
But it can, and it will.
But Middle-Aged Summer has some advantages over Young Summer.
Being able to sleep with the windows open, for one thing.
And the worst of the bugs are over.
Peaches-and-cream corn is here. And so are blueberries (depending on how far north you are).
And the lakes and rivers are even warmer than they were in July, so swimming is even better.
Besides, we still have much of the month of August left
There’s plenty of opportunity to still enjoy the beach, listen to the buzz of cicadas on muggy-h0t dog-days, get an ice-cream cone, or put your fishing rod in the water and try to catch that trophy bass.
Or cut the grass till you’re parched and exhausted, and reward yourself with an ice-cold beer that chills your throat as you guzzle it down.
Or sit on a lawn-chair on a warm evening, and watch heat-lighting illuminate the sky while listening for the barely-audible rumble distant thunder.
Or lie on the dewy grass at night, and stare straight up at the milky way and feel insignificant.
Just remember, though, that the number of days left in which we can do these things is limited.
So make the most of Middle-aged Summer while you can.
I know I will.