August in my childhood was always bittersweet.
There was a subtle shift in the air. The clouds began to change, the rain came a little more often, and in the mornings the dew was cold against my bare feet. The darkness began to creep into the morning a little later, and then, almost before we were ready, it started returning just after dinner.
The long, light-filled evenings of summer were beginning to fade. But somehow, the darkness made our after-dinner adventures even more magical. Hide-and-seek was better when the shadows grew long. Campfires could begin sooner. And the lake in Muskoka, which had been so inviting all summer, was beginning to feel just a little on the cold side. Courage to jump in was required!
Still, the sweetness of summer was very much with us.
There was that delicious feeling of warm days, sunshine and freedom—but alongside it was the inevitable knowing that fall was just around the corner.
And in Muskoka, fall is one of the most beautiful times of year. Every year, I am amazed all over again by the colours. The leaves seem to burst into an impossible array of yellow, gold, orange and red. It is truly a sight to behold.
Perhaps that is what I love most about this turning of the seasons. Even as something ends, something new begins to shine through.
I am already noticing the signs. My wool socks have come out of their summer hiding place. The other day I caught myself thinking, I could use my leggings. And for just a tiny moment, I even thought, Is it cold enough to turn on the heat?
But no. It is still August!
So, for now, I remind myself to get outside, get moving and enjoy these lush, lingering moments of warmth and sunshine. There is still plenty of summer left to savour.
And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I am thinking about my woolens. What needs to come out? What will keep me warm enough? What do I need to have ready so that when the cooler days arrive, I can welcome them rather than resist them?
Because the seasons will turn, as they always do.
And perhaps being prepared is part of the joy—gathering what we need, layering up, and making ourselves ready to love every moment of fall and winter here in Canada.
For now, though, I’ll keep my sandals nearby, leave the wool socks within reach, and soak up every last bit of August.
