The Year’s Longest Month

Nothing good happens in August. It has long been my opinion that August is the one month the calendar would be better off skipping. If only August could be more like September…there’s so much hope in a September; so many good things are bound to happen as soon as September rolls around: the heat finally mellows, autumn smells are in the air, and the general consensus of the world is that life is good.

Flowers like this happen in months like September.


And October! I have always thought October to be the most hopeful month. Seeing all my neighbors out in their front yards, spreading manure and dusting off the ol’ oscillating sprinkler (dug out from a pile of similarly forgotten sundries that are completely worthless in the summer, like rakes and grass seed and pride in one’s lawn) does my heart good. There is hope that the newest winter grass will be greener than ever. There’s the ideal that this year’s Halloween costume will make history. There’s the Homecoming floats, and the anticipation of sweater-weather; if every month was October, there would be no depression in the world–no crimes, no sorrow… If only.


Flowers like this happen in August. (Can’t see any flowers? It’s because there are none. Because flowers are good, and good things don’t happen in August).


Alas, it’s August, and all is not well. August is bleak. By the time August rolls around, the heat is at its peak, but we’re all so sick of it we don’t even have the energy to brag about it like martyrs anymore. In August, school starts, and (though I am a strong supporter of higher education for one and all) I am not going to sucker
anyone into believing that I like starting school again. August brings no sight of hope for Autumn to descend, even though it deceivingly starts with the same lovely letter amalgam–that’s so typical of August: sneaky. It’s true—August sneaks up on the world like the devil himself sneaks up on the stalwarts. Independence Day parades come and go, and suddenly, August. Sucking the life out the innocent like a dementor from Azkaban, August comes in all its dismal glory. Almost makes me want to curse.

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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3 Responses to The Year’s Longest Month

  1. Lindsey Burnham says:

    It’s a good thing September is just around the corner from August. Otherwise no one would make it through…

  2. afton says:

    your posts always make me so proud to be an arizonian. the things you talk about could only be appreciated to their fullest by someone who has been born and raised in this wonderful state we call home.

  3. Pingback: The Sweet Life of a Single Wife | Archives of Our Lives

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