It is early on a Saturday morning in mid-August. It feels like the world is holding its breath. For most of us, except possibly farmers, is there a time of year with less momentum or pressure than this? Entire countries are on vacation. Summer camps are finishing up, but school hasn't started yet. If you work in a seasonal summer business, traffic is slacking off. If you work in the academic field, the new term is still a few weeks away. If you work in the corporate world and you are not on vacation, chances are a lot of your colleagues are. I remember August weekends in New York City, when I felt as if I had the entire city to myself, there were so few people on the streets or in the subways.
In the northeastern U.S., it's that moment when a certain wispy dread begins to float into your consciousness. You see one bright red leaf on a tree, and you dismiss it. But then you see a second, or a third, or an entire branch of flaming crimson, and suddenly your entire psyche has been lurched kicking and screaming, fast forward through yellow school buses and the smell of burning leaves and frosty nights, through the first gentle snowfall in November and Thanksgiving turkey, and beyond, to the -20 degrees F of December or January and the treacherous ice and four foot snow drifts and days with only six or seven hours of decent light, to the cars that won't start and sidewalks that must be shoveled over and over and over again, and you break into a cold sweat. It is all you can do to keep from tearing boxes open, searching for winter parkas, snow boots, gloves, mittens, scarves and hats.
Then a mosquito buzzes at your ear, you swat it away, and thankfully you are brought back to the present. Look, the leaves are (mostly) green and they are still on the trees. It is already 72 degrees outside. Butterflies are flying from flower to flower. The doors and windows of the house are wide open, not shut tighter than a drum. You ate fresh corn on the cob last night, and will attend a cookout tonight. Your breathing returns to normal.
There may be no better life lesson for staying in the "now" than August 15.
