August

August is not normally my favorite month. It's usually dry, brown, hot and only a misery between summer and fall. This year it's been different. There has been a lot of rain, the lawns and trees are green and lush and the flowers are still looking good. I'm glad the tomato season is over. I didn't bother with fall tomatoes. Winn Dixie is easier. I have started thinking about fall flowers to replace the hot pink petunias I have growing on the patio. We had a so called cold front that passed through the area Friday talking the humidity with it. It left the air clear and a bit cooler and it left that first feel of fall, despite the afternoon heat and the promise of more summer to come. This August hasn't brought any hurricanes to the area and soon the anniversaries of Camille and Katrina will passed. We wait to see what September will bring. August makes me want figs. I love them and can not find them anymore. I would like to have a few jars of preserves for breakfast eating. Friday night high school football has started. But the big talk has been about Flip Flop Farve. He will, he won't, he DID! Everyone is fascinated with the man and his antics. And it's nice to have someone to distract from the endless talk and combative mood over health care. "Aging drama queen," a Chicago Tribute writer call the soon to be 40 year old Brett. "Sad, old and tired," a New York headline said. I don't want to see an icon fall from excellence on the field or hear about his fits of indecision. I don't enjoy seeing ridicule heaped on him. I am pulling for him. I'd like to see a last championship for him as improbable as it is. I'd like to see the grand old man of football become a legend for his leadership of this team. As we age it's becomes harder to give up the things that we love in this life. For Farve it seems to be the game. So thinking about old Flip Flop is a nice addition to the thoughts of August. It makes these late summer days fun and along with the figs, tomatoes and lack of storms it gives promise of the future and good things to come as we march toward the cold of winter.