When I was a kid, August in Chicago was hot and muggy; the noticeably earlier sundowns the only small mitigation to the uncomfortable stickiness and the sweltering suns’ rays hitting, being absorbed by, and radiating back off the asphalt and concrete. It was always excellent time to escape the city for awhile and go visit where the corn grows high.
School never started before Labor Day; anything otherwise would be sacrilege. In a time where very few classrooms had air conditioning, starting earlier was plainly a stupid idea.
August then became generically part of the summer; another month to work through, though if one took the time to notice, a time of of the year’s harvest starting to mature and cascading petunias.
August then became generically part of the summer; another month to work through, though if one took the time to notice, a time of high corn and cascading petunias before the nights started to take some chill.
Augusts in Wisconsin don’t seem to have the same mugginess as those of my childhood, yet they still don’t have the nocturnal chill of September. The stillness of the humid days is intermittently interrupted by crazy storms that tend to knock the power out, but the blazing harshness of July is gone.
As a homeschooler, I probably should not be so happy that my kids will be starting the school year soon. I love having them home, I love the looseness and flexibility of the schedule, but at the same time, I’m ready to go back to the structure of the school year. Saying this in August is probably sacrilege – or at least sacrilege to my children – but it is where I am now in the seasons of August.
Breath of Hallelujah 