August has arrived with a pang in my heart. It is still officially summer, but already there is a change in the air. A palpable difference to the atmosphere. The flowers are wilted - their leaves drooping with lack of rain. We are having a hot, dry summer, with little precipitation. And it is showing. The pink hydrangeas on the corner of the deck showed off only one small flower this year. The blue rose of Sharon's are barely blooming; the mallows have already given up after two small burgundy flowers emerged yesterday. And the strawberry-vanilla hydrangea tree is reluctantly offering up only small white blooms; it should be in its showy abundance this time of year. It has been a tough one for the garden. The grass is burnt yellow, the hosta leaves are brown, the tiger lilies are drying and crisp. Thankfully the air is still warm, and the cool chill of autumn has not yet begun. But the end of the season is nigh, it is everywhere and yet nowhere all at once....
Featuring observations and humour that I find in the world around me. I have always loved creative writing and journalling. Those combined passions led to a 20+ year career in broadcast journalism. I now love to write for the fun of it - combining creative writing and journalling.