Earlier this month I read that for teachers, August is one long Sunday night. You know…that anxious-apprehensive-excited-can’t get to sleep-what will tomorrow bring? potion of emotions and thoughts, that if you know what I mean, might mean we’re all in this one long Sunday night together.
A week ago, during a quick weekend trip to Niagara, to celebrate my in-laws’ 65th wedding anniversary, dine with my family, and sip wine at our favourite vineyards, I could hardly believe it was mid August. The Banana Belt’s signature hot’n’humid weather had given way to cold winds, grey skies and rain. Seems our summers had reversed, as out here in Alberta, we’d been blessed with sun and heat for days on end. To sip my morning coffee sitting outside at dawn is usually unheard of. Dining al fresco three meals a day for almost two months, while not my full dream realized, has come half way. Back in Niagara, only the hardy ventured into their backyard pools this summer, as water temperatures barely warmed, given exceptional rains and cool nights.
Now back home, dawn comes a good hour later. Dusk, too. Birds entrain, their occasional morning songs muted by traffic’s drumming now trebled in volume. Poplar, ash and elm leaves yellow and drop on sidewalks. Apple and emerald green flora is giving way to dusty sage and pale gold. Once vivid blossoms are now faded and weary. Not even Miracle Gro restores their glow. Wasps and hornets have made their annual August appearance, and an onslaught of kamikaze mosquitoes are hell bent on making up for lost time. Less chirping from squirrels as they fly among the tree limbs, their cheeks stuffed with spruce cones. Yesterday, morning temperatures plummeted to single digits and I felt and smelled fall.
One week left before we head into summer’s last long weekend. This year, August ends on that one long Sunday night. And while Monday is a holiday for many, come Tuesday we all wake up to a new month, a new season, a new year, if you know what I mean.