“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer… like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning” (Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting).

Typically, June and July lasted a grand total of five minutes. Now on to August.

August is a strange month. It’s the apex of summer, but it’s also when school and regular activities start back up again, so in a way it feels like the beginning of the end of summer.

At this point, I’m usually ready for summer to be over with all it’s sticky hot humidity. But there is a certain kind of freedom that only exists in summer that I miss once fall arrives.

I’m aware that on the calendar, September 21 marks the official end of summer, but I suppose you could make a case for Labor Day when most of the swimming pools close. School starting back marks the end of most of the summer vacationing for sure.

These day, I love each season because God made each season for a purpose. They all play a part in God’s cycle of life and death and regrowth. Each of them has its own special days and holiday, though I’d argue that fall has the best — even not counting Christmas, which technically falls into winter.

Still, I know I’m getting closer to flannel weather and pumpkins and all things pumpkin spice. I can’t say I’ll be too sad when that happens.