In the month of August something almost magical happens. The summer days wake with a warm haziness and the crickets chirp louder and longer and the butterflies multiply on the blooms.
It is Dog Days. My grandmother explained this as the time of summer when the family hound would scratch out a place in the cool dirt under the porch and lay there all day. It was too hot and humid to do much else. There may be another reason for the title, but I am good with this one. It is when summer turns from the excitement of June and July - school is out, graduations and weddings are upon us and we are focused on celebrating the 4th and the thrill of parades and fireworks and days at the beach fill our thoughts. When the calendar turns and August arrives it is with the slow ease of a good friend knocking on the back door.
When I was growing up August was filled with things we had to finish in our final weeks of freedom. Important things, like picking the last of the plump blackberries hanging on the vines that grew wild across the street from my grandmother's house. Damn the snakes, birds and chiggers those were our blackberries and we got them! The scratches from the briers were badges of honor as our buckets filled for the last time that year and we hoped it would be enough for one more cobbler. Figs hung ripe and heavy on the huge tree by her house. She and I would pick them and stand under that tree and eat. The leaves were big and made me itch but biting into that fruit was worth a little scratching. It was the time to see the tadpoles grow into frogs, to catch a few more lightning bugs in a mason jar, and pray for rain so we could wade in the ditch when the water rushed through.
I remember sitting in the crook of her huge oak tree that grew on the back of the property. Many a mystery has been solved there by Nancy Drew with my help. My brother would beg me to close the book and come play just a little longer before mama came by to take us home for the night.
Mama talked about going shopping for our back to school clothes and while that was mildly intriguing it was something for the distant future. We still had to save the world one mission at a time in our playhouse and on our bicycles. I can close my eyes even now and feel the wind on my face as we sailed down the dirt road and all was right with my world. Until I hit a piece of gravel and hit the ground - but that is another day.
When we finally said goodbye to August and packed up summer, we arrived at school in our new clothes and shoes. There would be a nip in the air as September gathered us up and ushered us through the doors to our new classrooms. A sweater was worn over my new dress which was always something in the colors or autumn, perhaps a plaid. Something far removed from the shorts and barefoot days of August.
Several school districts in the area began classes today. How sad. They use some sort of reasoning to justify robbing children of their magical August. Something about cost and air conditioning (ever hear of open windows - that is what we had.) Whatever the reason it is wrong that children are missing the most wonderful time of summer. They are glad to see their friends, they will get into the routine quickly. But, they cannot sit in a closed up classroom and feel the sun on their face and hear the cicadas or splash in a creek. They have said goodbye to summer just when summer is slowing down and beckoning them to come play.
So glad I got to.
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