August

On my roaming through Blogland lately, I've been listening to people complain about our relentless, beautiful days of summer.  People already envisioning winter, and a land blanketed in wooly white.  One particular comment got my attention in a strange, sad way.  The woman wrote:  "OHMYGOSH. I HATE THESE HORRIBLE HOT SUMMER DAYS."   She was actually screaming in all caps.  But really....

My soul is a Monarch fluttering under the summer, cobalt skies of August...

And how very lovely the thought of August is in the depth of winter, and how our hearts yearn then for its glories... how a single prayer would pierce through the ices in a powerful, evocative yearning:

"O Spirit of the Summertime, 

bring back the roses to the dells; 

the swallow from her distant clime, 

the honey-bee from drowsy cells.  

Bring back the friendship of the sun; 

the gilded evenings, calm and late, 

when merry children homeward run, 

and peeping stars bid lovers wait... 

bring back the singing; 

and the scent of meadowlands at dewy prime... 

Oh, bring again my heart's content, 

thou Spirit of the Summertime!"

 (William Allingham).  

I just so love summer.  And I'm already feeling nostalgic about having to see it go soon...

The other evening I wanted to go outside before nightfall,   

"Part of a moon was falling down the west,

Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.

Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw it

And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand

Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,

Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves..."

(Robert Frost)

The little white cottage basked in such glorious pink glow... it swelled the house, and surrounding gardens in magical flurries of wonderment, and glories... I went back and forth around the outsides taking mental pictures of all I saw, and heard and felt...  enchanted by it all, and truly thankful. 

A little white cottage... 

"Where flowers grow and sway
And where dew kisses their satin cheeks
Tall trees provide shade in the hot summertime
And breezes rustle the forest leaves.

Stars twinkle and wink at Night
Happily so merry and gay
And the Moon watches happily o'er
This beautiful enchanted place.

Coblestones provide such a lovely walkway
Leading to the pretty cottage
Where tall rosebushes climb
The trellis where at Night their buds unfurl."

(Unknown)

Purple roses glowed under the light of lanterns, wild and charmed... 

Windows in the little white cottage shimmered, and twinkled, enticing me to the glow and warmth inside...  

Then... little was visible but the hints of the dusky quiet light of the solar paths lights, overflowing through their casements into the dark world without...

The little white cottage in the woods snuggled in the arms of the evening, and remained quiet under the dusky sky...  

Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive...

Oh, the summer night, 

Has a smile of light, 

And she sits on a sapphire throne.

(Bryan Procter)

Do you love summer?