Bob Collins
I’m still collecting your images that scream “August!”. It’s the month of perennials, for example. This weekend was also full of festivals, and a couple of neighbor kids– I guess they’re not kids, anymore — left for college. One was stuffed into her own car and sent off, leaving the rest of us to wonder whether the marriage would survive the empty nest. The family in the other piled into the car and took the daughter to college to drop her off. August.
August — right around August 23, actually — is when the first fears of winter set in; the anxiety of looking at the calendar, and the still-long list of around-the-house projects. It’s when the excitement of the first lawn mowing of the spring has long since given way to the mental calculations of how much of one’s life is spent pushing a mower back and forth.
August. Shoot it. Send it.
Update 9:07a.m. – Mrs. News Cut sent this August scene from her ancestral homeland of the Berkshire hills.
