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.
It is a feeling, a sense of things.
The quiet of the garden in the morning seems tense, ready for something, a change.
The cicadas offer up their particular trill this time of the year.
I have always loved hearing them.
The robins have gone silent. As have the cardinals and most other songbirds who just a few short weeks ago were filling the air with their love songs.
The bees and wasps seem more intense - the flowers not as abundant as they were.
The squirrels seem lost - one surveying the inside of our house from the outdoor window sill.
It doesn't help that the stores are already offering back-to-school supplies.
And autumn knickknacks featuring red leaves and pumpkins.
The leaves will fall soon enough - we don't have to be reminded with a slap in the face as we head in to pick up our groceries or other sundry items.
Because we know, as all Canadians do, that there is a true beast just around the corner once we embrace the inevitable season of autumn.
But we won't justify or acknowledge it just yet.
We are still in the fading days of summer, enjoying the slightly shortening days and lengthening nights, with the warmth embracing us as we take our evening walks.
The days are still humid and hot, the afternoons especially, with air quality statements in abundance this year after forest fires decimated large parts of the country.
Some will be glad this summer is over, when temperatures decline and rain increases.
For now, though, I am enjoying every last nanosecond that August has to offer.
Milking every last minute of the garden, even as the grass and dead leaves crunch under my feet.
Thanking each and every plant for offering us the best that it could, under the circumstances.
That pang in my heart is a mix of sadness for what is about to be lost, and for what is to come.
A bittersweet time of year when we hope that we made the most of every short minute there was.
For it's one thing for sure we Canadians also know - that summer is indeed brief.
Let's just enjoy what we know we have left.