August is such a stale time of the year. No cool breezes, no moisture, perpetual aqua blue skies, and a lot of anxiety about wildfire. The grasses stand crisp and golden, and so picturesque, but really it is just in suspended limbo until the rain comes, there in the bleaching hot sun day after day while even the moss in the forest turns brownish and, like the grasses, is frozen in lifelessness for months.
Mid August is even more stale than when the month arrived, and by the end of the month I am usually quite fried, dreaming of verdant countrysides in far off lands.
I have been thinking about my knitting trail, and ideas. So far it’s just staked out and haven’t walked it very much, but I need a grand plan, and I need ideas. I was hoping for some from you readers.
Now I will make myself a fresh iced coffee and wait for a little conversation to begin…