August is the earth letting out a groaning sigh. The heady business of summer comes to a close, leaves begin to fade, and the once-crisp plants begin to take on a draggled look as they finish the photosynthetic business of the summer’s work. The release of pent up energy is audible in the racket of August–the cicada cacophony that dominates the evening, the rattle of the slowly dessicating leaves. The shine shines over-brightly as it asserts its dominance for these last few brief weeks. I won’t notice the moment that the light melts into to the wistful gleams of autumn. But it will happen sometime as August finishes exhaling that slow, languorous, glorious breath.