My dear cousin and even dearer friend once remarked on a day like today, “August is the Sunday of summer.” It’s an observation that’s stuck with me in the many years since and comes to mind whenever the pre-autumnal light of August gently pushes July’s away.
She’s right. I hate it.
Sorta like the Sunday scaries and the looming to-dos of the week ahead, August ushers in a subtle yet distinct shift — a reminder of the encroaching chill that awaits in the months to come.
Sure, September still brings us scorching hot days that clash with our premature Pumpkin Spice lattes, but our summer-happy hearts and minds know on a bone-deep level that winter is coming [*insert Game of Thrones meme here*].
As we start to straddle summer and the Monday of Fall, attributing emotional doldrums to Mercury in Retrograde is one option.
A reminder to stay present is another.
Look forward to Fall layers (beyond how you plan to layer Molly T.), but bask in every beach day, laze in every lake, and remember to savor the sweet Sunday of Summer.
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