I have never liked August. When I was young it meant going back to school, and routines, and busy nights. Maybe it was because both my parents were teachers and therefore, despised August and the end of their vacation. But August has always been a bane. A month to "get through."
Plus, the light is weird in August. It is all glassy and harsh. Especially in the afternoons. I don't like that. I am very particular about my light. Don't ever turn an overhead on in my presence. Blech.
Plus it is still really, really hot and usually by this time I am over hot.
Plus, about this time every year, I really start to look forward to fall.
To mums and hot cider, and pumpkin donuts, and ghosts. To sweaters and warm socks, and pretty leaves and smoke in the air. To picking out just the right costume and attending fall festivals. To school open houses and new school art for the fridge. There is so much to love.
Fall is the best season. Period.
Every year in February, after months of snow and cold and darkness, I curse myself for wishing away summer.
"Why was I so anxious for fall and cool weather?"
But I can't help it.
I don't like August.