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‍AUGUST

And just like that, it’s gone. The towering, impenetrable clouds, indescribably white. Until the storms come in the afternoon. Then almost suddenly the clouds and the sky turn grey. Angry grey. Intimidating grey. Humbling grey. There is a stiff burst of wind when these summer storms turn our way, and oh how the buzzards love it. Dozens appear from their roosts in the trees, doing nothing more than riding the wind. Such effortless joy. And we think we are the superior species. And now this. Calm, almost cloudless afternoons. The air temperature has dropped from the scorching 90’s to the much more benign 80’s. The crowds are gone. The jet skis, the wake boats, the lines. September is the summer month for the rest of us, those who work so hard to service the public throughout June, July and August. I intend to swim each evening this month. Watching the buzzards come to roost, watching Mica the Wonder Dog get in her joyful end of day laps, submerging in the sublime waters of Jocassee. Goodbye, August. I love you like no other month. You may now take your fury, your grandeur and go rest for a while. ~B