“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

8.01.2014

august


july left us on the sound of cicadas, on wet leaves and grass, on a night cooler than any summer evening i can remember. the same stage on which august made its entrance. sixty something degrees this morning, cloudy, damp. an old friend is visiting from out of state, and the heat he was expecting isn't here. i don't think he's disappointed.

i see the months in my mind, in the room where they live when they're not on duty. i see july shaking herself off as she comes through the door, rain flying everywhere, needing a warm shower, a cup of coffee with a bit of something stronger to help her relax. august is already out the door, rolling his eyes at her as he sees the mess she's left him - limbs down, the tall grass wet against his knees. he's not in a good mood, i'm afraid, and i hope he doesn't take it out on us. perhaps october will loan him a jacket.

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i've been calling august "put the lime in the coconut" month. there are so many places to play. susannah conway's august break, august prompts in several places, leftover prompts still unfinished, hundreds of partial blogposts ditto. i feel a bit of desperation - less than a month until the business busies up again, another summer with no time off, the beginning of the end of three day weekends. i have no idea what you will see here, although there will be a surprise or two. i am playing harder with photoshop, freeing up my writing, throwing caution aside. today we start with a sleeping cat. when in doubt, post a cat.

she is sleeping to the sound of cajun music and the whoosh of cars going by. the television is on, sound off, news of diseases and war scrawling across the screen. the house i've been trying to organize since sometime in june is almost organized - i have been interrupted by books all summer. katie passes the open front door, dressed in white and taupe, with pink rain boots, and i hear her say oh my god, it just feels so divine. she is right - it does. all of it. the coolness, the messiness, the smell of rain. even the humidity.

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yesterday evening, the humidity lurked outside the door, sweating against the glass and the skin of neighbors walking their evening walks. they moved slower, more loosely through the fading light. never mind that it was cool - humidity trumps temperature always. it felt like louisiana, closer to us than dallas, felt like it was spilling over the state line. perhaps that explains this morning's cajun music.

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5 comments:

  1. you describe the push pull of july and august perfectly. I've been loving the cooler temps but have to say the storms have been wreaking havoc with my face pain and migraines . . . and that humidity keeps trying to sneak its way back to us.

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  2. i managed a lunch photo today for august break…and put it on instagram. otherwise, august has held me close today and won't let me go….

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  3. ha, humidity does always trump temperature.... you are cooler than we are, though we are still cooler than 'normal" ... Mother Nature plays games with all our words just to keep us on our toes.

    here's to august, whatever it brings. xoxo

    p.s. LOVE the image

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  4. your words always give me impressions, pictures, thoughts. I see your weather, so different from mine. your trees that have names I have never heard of. it is always so welcoming to come here..and just listen.
    in my fondest, tilda

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  5. Love your descriptions of July & August; you create such a mood with your words - there is poetry in that little story about the months 'In The Room Where They Live'.

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