Tag Archives: August

Bronze-Faced August

AUGUST is a magnificent month. It’s also a bronze-faced, unforgiving month. It pours out many beauties and joys, but can also bring either droughts or floods, hurricanes or hammering heat waves. August may usher in thunderstorms and tornadoes. Or beauty, clement climes, and the very best of summer. The thing is, you never know. And August doesn’t care.
Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar’s heir and grand-nephew, had finally conquered the Roman world by 30 B.C.E. Just as his great predecessor had named a month for himself, Augustus figured that he was entitled to do the same.
In August the Summer Triangle beams down on us from directly overhead. You can spot it without excessive effort, because it’s formed from three of the brightest stars. They’re among the first to appear on an August night. They’re old friends, and they visit every summer of our lives.
Sirius, the brightest star of all, is getting higher night by night. The ancient Egyptians figured it was SO bright that its rays must be adding to those of the sun, making August extra hot. Since it’s in the constellation Canis Major (“Big Dog”), we have the expression “dog days of summer.”
Also speaking astronomically, August brings us the perseid meteor shower, almost always the biggest of the year. At their peak, the perseids average a meteor a minute, so it’s not high-tech sound-and-light show. But if you’re happy to be still and wait, it’s one of nature’s glories.
One very sad note – an August 30 train crash in Wayland killed 30 people in 1943. It was the second-worst single-incident disaster in Steuben County.
Hiroshima was atom-bombed on August 6, 1945, Nagasaki on August 9. Japan announced its surrender on August 15, or V.-J. Day. Only Hawaii and my native Rhode Island still celebrate it, now called Victory Day, on the second Monday of the month.
Even with Victory Day, August is curiously bereft of any major holidays, though Britain has “August Bank Holidays,” two Mondays on which businesses are closed, and millions of Britons head for the beach. Other than that you can enjoy National Immunization Awareness Month, National Milkshake Day (8/1), Coast Guard Day (8/4), or, if in Vermont, Battle of Bennington Day (8/15), though the fighting actually happened in New York.
The fact that August is big in thunderstorms means that it’s also big on rainbows, maybe rivalling only April in that regard.
Marcus Garvey was born in August. So were movie people Jason Momoa, Peter O’Toole, Lucille Ball, Alfred Hitchcock, and Sean Connery. Orville Wright and Neil Armstrong were born in August, making a GREAT juxtaposition – the first man to fly an airplane, and the first man to step on the moon, not quite 66 years apart. WOW!
Napoleon and Mother Teresa, avatars of sharply different world views, were born in August. So were literary types Herman Melville and Francis Scott Key. Other August birthdays come to presidents Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, and Lyndon B. Johnson.
Most of the birds have raised their young, but the monarchs are still struggling northward, laying eggs in the milkweed as they pass. The geese are not gathering QUITE yet, but hidden in the woods, you can see the leaves starting to turn, and the season with them. In the last week of the month, even if the weather’s still summery, the sky takes on a slightly different shade of blue. It takes a LITTLE longer for the morning air to warm up, and darkness comes just a LITTLE earlier.
August is the month for swimming, beach parties, clambakes, blueberries, corn on the cob. And suddenly – back-to-school sales. Displays change in the stores. Mothers start stocking up on school supplies, and checking how much the children have grown since they last wore their “school clothes.” If you’re a kid, it seems horribly unfair. But even so, it’s not September YET! The water’s still warm. Another swim would be great.

Ah, August

Ah, August.

*Out of all the year’s months, August may be the most lonesome. There are no major holidays, with Fourth of July but a distant memory and Labor Day no more than a half-seen shadow. (The V-J Days of my childhood seem to have gone with the wind.)

*Nothing seems to make August stand out… it’s almost just a continuation of July, and it may well slide into September’s early days. (In Rhode Island, August was sometimes enlivened with hurricanes, but… 1972 withstanding… it’s not the same in the Finger Lakes.)

*But the breeze last Friday carried September with it. Go into the woods in August’s first week, and here and there you’ll spot the hint of color, the dried-out leaves, and the dropping acorns that mark the first of the fall.

*The fledglings have left their nests, and in some cases their parents. Tired monarch butterflies struggle to the southward. The roadsides sparkle with coltsfoot, chicory, Queen Anne’s lace. Aster peeks out underfoot. But for all that color, the flowers and the fields are starting to go to seed. Farmers make hay, dotting the hills with rolls and bales.

*Thunderheads rise and accumulate, sponsoring booms and flashes and downpours that liven our afternoons and wake us up at night. On clear nights we crane our necks to see the Summer Triangle directly overhead. Scorpio sits near the horizon, and if the clouds cooperate we may enjoy the streaks and flashes of the Pleiades.

*An occasional morning is downright chilly, and startled folks schedule another day of swimming, of boating, of picnicking… another trip to the ice cream stand, maybe a ride to Elmira, Toronto, or Rochester for a baseball game. Even summer doesn’t last forever. When I was a kid I loved school. I even DEPENDED on school, as a shelter from the insanity of my home. But I also loved the glorious kid freedom of summer, and felt a melancholy as September drew near. I felt it every August from 1958 to 1994, after which I finally unlinked my life from the beloved round of the school year.

*In Steuben County August brings “fair week,” and other counties enjoy the same. Businesses get the last flood of seasonal traffic. Mothers make back-to-school lists. Drug stores and supermarkets start putting up autumn displays, and REALLY forward-looking kids now and then dream of Christmas.

*In a typical life you’ll probably get around 80 Augusts. None of them, once gone, will ever come again. Enjoy this one.