Monday, 11 August 2014

Faded Grandeur.

August is rarely a favourite month of mine. Out in the lanes and fields and woods, the greens are browning and the hedgerow flowers have been displaced by berries. More than that, there is a sense of fatigue in the air. The vibrancy of spring and early summer has gone; the land looks tired now. Summer’s race is nearly run and nature’s legs are growing heavy.

August is the month when it starts to become noticeable that the evenings are getting not only earlier, but shorter. The very atmosphere feels arid as the grandeur fades. If August could be personified, it would probably take the form of Miss Havisham.

When September gets under way we’re becoming accustomed to the onset of autumn when the land grows torpid; a sense of wholesome mellowness sets in and the colour of decay delights the eye. But as the crops stand ripe in the fields just waiting to be cut down, August is simply a reminder of how short the summer is.

And I probably wrote the same thing in slightly different words this time last year. As I said, August is rarely a favourite month of mine.


Anonymous said...

I love this post.

JJ Beazley said...

Thank you, Sara, and I love the way you keep making me miss you by disappearing for weeks at a time!

Actually, I thought you were going to tell me off. I remember having a rant about winter a couple of years ago, and you sort of told me off then. You said something about winter being a time to hunker down and make soup. Or something like that.

Feel free to come and make soup on my desert island, if ever I find it.

Anonymous said...

Weeks? Nahhh. I'm never gone that long. I stop in often, though I don't always have something worthwhile to say.

Haha, told you off? Jeff, I think you're under the impression tht I'm much sterner than I truly am. :] If I remember rightly, I was just having a conversation. Maybe trying to make you feel a little better, because your winter doldrums are oh-so-low.

Send me a message in a bottle when you do.

JJ Beazley said...

Not so much stern as intense, maybe. I expect I was embarrassed because you're the sort to make the best of things, whereas I'm an incorrigible Victor Meldrew.

The thing which most stands out in my mind is what you said about the violinist's smile. You know, I'm sure, how much a seemingly little thing like that can say about a person.

You're not exactly over-subscribed with coastline in Georgia, are you? Couldn't you go back to New York? I'm sure the bottle would find its way up the 'gateway to the world' no trouble.

And THERE'S another song I haven't heard in a long time. Off to YouTube.

Anonymous said...

I'm very intense, as I'm sure I've said. And actually... I am very stern occasionally, but it's only when I absolutely have to be.

I do know you found that quite profound, though I can't remember my exact words. My eyes are open to the nuances in human behavior though. Plus, I was rather captivated by him. Handsome guy. How do you interpret what I said?

Georgia has a quite a coastline, but I love hours inland. Better send a gull?

Anonymous said...

*LIVE. Not love. Though that was kind of a nice typo.

JJ Beazley said...

How do I interpret what you said? I don't remember the exact words either, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that you saw it strongly enough to make the comment. I suppose it's like hearing music. Some people only hear the clashing cymbals and the big melodies. Others hear the length of a rest and understand. It's all about awareness of subtlety, I think. To me, it said you're highly aware of nuances. Awareness is a big quality to me.