Wednesday, August 12, 2009

August is my favorite month...


and you may well wonder why. Well, October is also my favorite month, but that's a no brainer. I love August for a very different reason. There's a look to August, of course. I tend to think of it as having yellow skies. But more than the look, it's the sound. August sounds like no other month of the year. There's the dulcet white noise that only cicadas can produce. You don't hear this noise in June or July, but when the summer's heat is the strongest and the days are the laziest. Crickets, too, add to the summer symphony. It's bittersweet. It's still summer, but there's the undeniable hint that it's coming to an end.

I spent my childhood in Ohio and we didn't have air conditioning. There really wasn't any need of it except for a couple of weeks during the summer. When you went indoors, the sounds of the summer (and sometimes the critters) followed you in. I remember long afternoons lounging on our screened porch and reading Nancy Drew mysteries listening to cicadas instead of being plugged into an i-pod like todays pre-teens. And at night I fell asleep, usually in front of a window fan, with the lullaby of chirping crickets to sooth me to sleep. The late summer noises were a reminder that there weren't that many days left of playing with paper dolls and having Monopoly marathons and the aquisition of new shoes and pencils were close at hand.

Today I'm insulated from the summer sounds by my air conditioning but I tune into them as I take my morning walks through the state park. There they play fortissimo and I'm reminded of a kindler, gentler time.


3 comments:

risa said...

Thanks for the nice comments on my blog entry! And in return, I'll become your first blog follower!

Anonymous said...

I'm delighted that Risa has become my first follower. Her blog is beautiful and such an inspiration. Please see the link to her blog on the sidebar.

Anonymous said...

You have painted a beautiful picture in words (also your picture is beautiful). But in reality, you cannot have two favorite months. Also, it is impossible to hear the crickets' lullaby over an electric fan. I mean, I shared the same bedroom with you, and I remember the sound of the electric fan, but my memories of nature's sounds come from Grandma and Grandpa's farm!