a roll of film a month: august
Although we’ve crossed the threshold into autumn, I still miss you. Your time with us was far too short, but I’m so grateful for each of your 31 days, your dry, sunny weekends, for giving us Brits one small taste of summer after June and July’s failed attempts.
You were the month of seaside adventures and Negroni cocktails and a long-overdue date night; early morning yoga classes (back when the sun still poured in through the shutters at dawn), long walks in the countryside, a river swim (Wren’s first), iced coffees, rosy baby cheeks, lidos and water fountains and paddling pools, beers and BBQs on the terrace, corn on the cob, tomatoes that smelled like sunshine, a trip to Dreamland, a hazy kind of light, golden fields, wild flowers slowly drying on the stalk and sunflower heads drooping heavily.
I miss everything about you, August. It’s too bad you couldn’t stick around a little longer. Don’t tell the others, but you are by far my favourite month. Lucky for me, September and October vie for second place so it makes the goodbye slightly less painful. Here’s to apple crumbles and wood fires, soups and stews, Indian summer (fingers crossed), shadows getting longer and light slanting low, trick or treating, pumpkins, sweaters and scarves, leaves falling, whiskey, Neil Young’s Harvest album.
Until next year.