When I think of August, my immediate word association game response is: Hot! Hotter here in Lovell than in Oxnard/Ventura, CA where I spent 30 years--but hot just the same. Certainly hot in all the other places I have lived -- Provo, Chicago, Magalia, Goleta.
And my second word association response is more of a phrase: too close to the end of summer. You might say it is the end of summer, but where I grew up the end of summer was the first day of school, and school never started for me until September.
Now that I live in a rural town and have a ridiculously large garden, I also associate August with Tomatoes, and corn on the cob. The first time I sat down at Dora's table (Grandma Howe to most of you) and saw a plate full of sliced tomatoes and an unlimited supply of corn on the cob (in August, of course), I wondered where the rest of dinner was. Where was the meat, etc? But then I was transformed. Home grown tomatoes and fresh corn slathered in butter, salted and peppered, is enough. More than enough.
I am just on the brink of this summer August luxury. My tomatoes are turning bright red, and I have my order in for dozens of ears of corn. (Jeff drives by a corn stand on his way to and from Billings daily, and I'm depending on him to fulfill our dreams.) August is the only month you can do this well. Too soon the tomatoes turn, the corn harvest ends, and summer is truly over. Until that day, we will be picking and canning.
And... I may have to sneak in a few last trips to Horseshoe Bend. The best part of a hot day is being in cold water. Who wants to go with me?
