Four days into August, and I am not sure what happened to July.
Days are moving fast, even if I’m not. Time flies so quickly, I can’t remember if I have anything to complain about. Which I guess is good, right?
Oh Hello August!
August descendeth like a sigh, to keep July and September from sticking together . . .(Peg Bracken, The I Hate to Cook Almanck, Page 168)
Here’s a description that captures well the first days of the eighth month:
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot . . . . ~Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting
As the test that August may be begins, I wonder how prepared I am.
Summer’s heat is not my time to shine. We seasoned citizen –gardeners need to have a care about the hot weather. (Keeping it Cool)
Nor is it a time when my humble beds flourish – that happened mid July when rain was familiar guest. It’s been so dry, when I pull the crab grass, clumps of dry dirt and mulch won’t let go.
The weeds actually look healthier than the plants.
So, no, I will put off the inevitable for a few more days. After all:
What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, Fortune of the Republic, 1878
However, not giving over everything to the weeds, I transplanted a few languishing garden store plants into pots, after the sun set one evening. Which means I gave myself a few more watering chores.
I found myself a small struggling hibiscus. That it was marked 70% off probably means it has less than a 50% chance of blooming.
But, at my age, I can empathize with a little old plant just trying to finish out its season. We’ll see; I put it in a larger pot, hoping to encourage this struggling plant to grow deep roots.
There’s no danger of developing eyestrain from looking on the bright side. ~ Unknown Sage
Except on days when human beings choose evil and hatred, and kill other human beings. Tears strain my eyesight, and cloud the bright side.( Two Mass Shootings in One Dark Day)
August arrived, bringing the dry heat that should keep old gardeners inside sipping tea and resting. And praying; this August I am praying for my country.
Who is Sara Baume?