Perseids

It is August. My favorite month. My birthday month. I am so pleased to have a summer birthday. Particularly a late August birthday, when the sun still beats on us, when the corn and tomatoes and squash bury us in abundance, when the green still surrounds us and nearly overwhelms us. The roads like cathedrals of trees, the lawns almost neon in the strong light of early evening. When the Perseids startle us with their silent fireworks, if we are lucky enough or smart enough to lie under them for awhile.
Here in the hills, where I used to live and Sparky still does, the nights are sometimes downright cold in August. It was 40 when we went to sleep last night. Sparky does not believe that this is the usual thing, having lived in California for so long. He cannot reconcile himself to the 80 degree days and the 40 degree nights. Sparky thinks something is not right, maybe it's global warming. But it is only the harbinger of winter in the midst of brilliant summer. I remember so many late summer nights, bundled in blankets watching Shakespeare plays or lying on the wet ground in my down jacket dug out for the purpose of watching the light show of the meteor showers in some field or other. Here, we bask in the heat of August during the days, make fires at night. That's the way of it. And if we embrace it, we are rewarded in astonishment. So I advise you to embrace the chill, embrace the night, to find astonishment. Find a field, take a blanket and a bottle of wine or a thermos of hot chocolate, and wait for the Perseids. Or look for an outdoor play or concert to go to. You can bring your happiness book (and a flashlight for the field). Make notes during intermission, or during a break in the meteor viewing, if you want. Or let it all overwhelm you, then write/draw after, in your house, sitting by the fire you might need, or by the air conditioner, depending.