It's August. August for me, means summer is rapidly getting to the point where it will start merging with fall. Nights'll get cooler (though you'd never think it these days in Montreal) and there will be a change to the air... It's all very portentious dontcha know. It's the beginning of the end for me.
However, August does have some good things going for it:
- I heard my first cicada Monday. I love hearing them buzz. I had a cat, Charlot (which is how we call Charlie Chaplin in French), who would grab them when they landed on the balcony (or hell, maybe when they flew by for all I know) and he'd play with them for hours until we got home from work. Their shells seemed to defeat him though since every time I'd take one back outside, off it would go. Charlot was also really good at catching flies. He'd eat them and spit out their heads and wings. I kid you not. We'd find those bug pieces all over the house in summer, but nary a fly - and wondered what he hell was going on. Until we saw him do it. It was strange, very much so (Who me? Digressing? Naw).
- I also love the sound of crickets. The crickets are starting to make their cricket racket too. August nights at the cottage are riotously noisy. Love it.
- So yeah, my favourite bugs are August bugs obviously.
- Dog days. We're in them right now. It's hot hot hot, 34 in Montreal today (41 they say if you take the humidity into account). I love hot. I revel in hot. I never get enough of hot. And I hate AC. Took me 10 minutes to warm my toes yesterday after leaving work. Yuck. Give me a fan and I'm good to go.
- Despite that days are getting shorter, somehow they seem to stretch on and on in August. Not only weekends, but weekday evenings sitting on the balcony with Mr. Jazz (though, poor guy, I'm reading Harry Potter right now, so he's pretty much on his own - I feel sort of sorry for him).
There. That's it. I've run out of things to say. I'll just disapperate. Yes, I know, it's about time I finish this damn book.