Isn’t it strange how your aesthetic can shift as the seasons change?  The fresh, bright whites, and light linens that are so refreshing in summer are downright bland in the dead of winter.  The rich jewel tones, shimmering gold, and heavy textures of winter are opulent at Christmas time, but oppressive in the spring.

photograph by Justine Taylor

And with the mere suggestion of Autumn in the air I’m finding the woolen yarns, rustic wood tones, caramel-y leathers, coppers and brasses, and autumnal colours extremely alluring.  But I find myself saying “not yet”.  Last winter’s ruthless iron-fisted grip still lingers in my memory, and not even the easy-going summer days can erase it.  It reminds me to relish every last drop of summer.

As I thought about this tension between savouring summer and anticipating autumn I realized that, here in the prairies anyways, August is a season unto itself.  A beautiful marriage of summer and autumn.  The days are still wonderfully hot, but the mornings and evenings are blissfully cool.  The light is bright, but more golden and dappled.  There is an exquisite smell in the air - of dried crops, ready for harvest.  The trees still rustle with green, but are dotted with a few gilded leaves that hint of the gorgeous array to come.  And somehow listening to the football game on the radio is very appealing to me - no doubt arousing the nostalgia of late summer road trips, and hours in the combine just to be alongside my Love.

photograph by Justine Taylor

So, there’s no need to anxiously await Autumn.  Nor do I need to mourn the brevity of Summer.  No, I’m going to drink in every sweet day of August and its fusion of two beautiful seasons.