August is stifling, a string of one hundred plus degree days.
Plants wilt and scream to be cut back or yanked from the soil.
I open the kitchen door and heat billows. ย Before sunrise.
The dogs stop and sniff and stare, refusing to move from the back step. They wonderย what’s going on in this place we live?
Yes, they wonder, I can tell by their cocked heads and sincere eyes.
I enjoyย August, even with her sultry days bringing frizzy hair and skin damp enough to sprout seeds.
August marks the bittersweet end of summer.
Maybe sneak in one last vacation?
I anticipate fall and cotton harvest.
School supplies fill store shelves.
Number two pencils.
Clean white notebook paper.
I wait for college football and pumpkin lattes.
I wait for that first brilliant leaf.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.ย ~Sam Keen














