August, for me, is the month before things really get started. Heavy with the accumulated heat of the season, it flattens all ambition. Even as the long days grow shorter, with summer slipping away, there is no energy to spare.
My daughter returns to college soon; life is about to change. Soon it will be time to take on new projects, but not quite yet. If there was ever a waiting time to fill, August is it.
What to do in the meantime? Tomatoes ripen faster than we can eat them, the urgent culmination of the season’s growth. The basil desperately tries to go to seed, anticipating the first frost that still seems far away to me. Summer wanes, yet for the moment I’m not ready to move forward.
I’ve been looking around at what needs to be done, giving the attention that’s harder to bring when I’m in the midst of things. I’ve culled cookbooks and recipe files; kept appointments with the vet, the dentist, the rug cleaners; read through magazines I’ve been saving; cleaned out the refrigerator.
In the meantime is valuable in its own way. A time of gathering energy, of clearing a path through the clutter of to-do lists. It’s a particular kind of waiting, like emptying the dishwasher while the tea steeps, or finding a good read while watching for a friend at a bookstore. It’s a way of attending, not “killing” time but filling it.
John Lennon reminded us that life is what happens while we’re making other plans. Our goals and hopes and plans are important, but so is the life we live on the way to attaining them, in the meantime. It’s good to remember that, because sometimes life surprises us with what is substantial and what isn’t. The things that look solid as a stone wall can crumble, and what may seem ephemeral as a delicate weed can endure among the rubble.
Soon and suddenly, we’re pulled into the forward momentum of September. It happens so fast I’m in it almost before I see it coming. This year August has cooled down early here, with the autumnal weather bringing a corresponding change of pace for me. Those languid days seem slow, but they pass quickly by. September will soon be upon us.
What do you do in the meantime?
This is a beautiful description of late August and of “in the meantime.” It is a time of waning and anticipation, but what I love the most are the images of spent energy that is not yet revived, the push and pull this essay uses as a structure and a subject. and the stone wall with august blooms.
Perfect thoughts for this cool morning. The leaves of the walnut tree, always the last to arrive, are the first to go, and spiders coming in from the fields to occupy every corner of my house. The robins have flown from their little nest. I like the in-between seasons best, the sense of heightened anticipation. Change in the air. Intangible, ghostly, near but not here yet.
Thanks for drawing my attention to the wonders of a waning August.
Lynn and Sharon, it’s a pleasure to read your reflections. The conversation brings this time of transition into even clearer focus for me, both the waning and the anticipation. The spiders do herald the change, and I love the description of what’s to come as “intangible, ghostly, near but not here yet.” That’s it exactly. The light, too, is changing. So much is happening.