I Remember August

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At the risk of sounding redundant , I will say again . . .it is raining at the rabbit patch. I am sure some record has been broken in the meteorology department, but how would I know, as cable does not work in the rain here?  It is just as well, for I have other “fish to fry” these days.  With Kyle and Christian absent in the daytime, I have been studying great works – and done some light reading to preserve at least a portion of my sanity.  I have removed the relentless cobwebs from the far corners of the house, again .   I have pulled grass and small trees up, between showers.  . .and made cookies.   Today I am scrubbing floors. . . and paying bills.  I must find something to occupy my time as the present state of limbo abides. . . which means, waiting for an appraiser.

The school year begins in a few weeks.  I had so hoped the whole business of selling and moving would have been sorted out before school started.   Now, I can see, that was “wishful thinking” .  I have come to terms with that.  There is an art to waiting, properly.  It is not a passive state at all, for it takes  great effort to forge ahead in a sensible manner, when you are trudging in the dense shadow of providence. 

I am reminded of being thirteen again, which may be the worst age of all.  At thirteen or fourteen, we are really still children, but we aren’t suppose to be childish.  The world seems to have changed in a flash.  Our looks are changing and we have new feelings.  Sometimes we still want to play, other times we are far beyond it.  The familiarity of life has vanished and with it, our confidence.  We are too old to behave as we did and not old enough to proceed, in  any other fashion, but awkward.  Nobody, ever says, “I wish I was thirteen again!”  

Now this is not really as dire a time, as all that.  Life can have a good many seasons.  To me, it is  like I am embarking on a new adventure .  The itinerary  isn’t known, just yet, though.  All I need is faith “the size of a mustard seed” and I admit, sometimes even that is  hard to come by.  Those are the gloomy days.  At those times, I will pray and walk among the ancient oaks .  I will gaze at the steadfast field and look up at the sky, and soon regret my faltering.   “How can I be fearful?” , I will ask myself, for it is fear that lies at the root of  most dreary thoughts.  The whole world seems in cahoots to restore my Faith and fear just can not abide, under such circumstances .  In no time,  I “go on my merry way”  with renewed vigor, and glad for mercy.  The whole thing passes like a fever.

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Summer is waning,  so say the morning glories.  Little, tangled masses are hither and yonder on the rabbit patch.  I try to let them be, but they are an unwelcome sight, next to a rose bush.  No amount of gentle persuasion  works on a morning glory.  They look too delicate to choke the life out of something . . .but they will. 

The corn is tattling about the time, too.  Golden tassels crown the stalks, now. The fields lie golden in August, because of that.

I see “Back to School” ads everywhere, trying to convince parents that their children need everything under the sun or they will surely fail their grade.  My own school supplies were things like “sturdy” shoes.  They were never cute.  I swore they were “boy” shoes.  I got a new coat and  the “book bag”  that was also “sturdy” and looked like something a boy would carry.  I did not go to kindergarten and I am sorry to say, if it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have gone to first grade.  

I had an especially sweet teacher, and I loved every child in the class, but the cafeteria food smelled strange and I could not bear it most days.  I do  not mean to sound arrogant, but I was horrified that some students did not know their colors.  I disliked the worksheets with simple tasks like “circling seven ducks” and “See Jane run!” was dull compared to my beloved  “World Book Encyclopedias”, that were on the bookcase, in Grandmas‘ “front room”.  Ocourse, there were water fountains and slides which were new to me, but best of all was the library.  The librarian was grouchy, but she was Grandmamas’ friend.  She went to our church and it seems like we were “kin” to her someway.  She had a pretty white, brick house with a lot of flowers.   I often wondered how a person with so many books and flowers could be so grouchy. . . Honestly, I still do.

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The apples at the rabbit patch ripen in August.  There is a spicy aroma in the air that never fails to remind me of my maternal grandmother.  Her kitchen always smelled delicious in August.  Big pots of applesauce simmered perpetually and there was apple pie for dessert most every evening. Apple ‘scraps” went to the pasture.  The ponies and goats galloped to the fence, when they saw me coming.  I remember being careful that all of them got something, as there was clearly a pecking order.  If a pony was shy, he was apt to go hungry.

Nellie, was the ruler of the herd of goats.  She was the color of sand and quite bossy.  She even bossed the ponies!  She ruled the herd in a cold hearted way.  It was no wonder to me she was so fat she waddled , for she was quite selfish  I quarreled with Nellie daily, about her “unchristian behavior”  and threw the apples to her “subjects” as best as I could, at six.  Nellie got her fair share too.  Every spring, Nellie would have twin kids-and once triplets, and I forgave her for everything, on account of that. 

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Time has marched on at an alarming rate, since then.  Many ways have marched away, right along with it.  Oh, how long ago, those beautiful summers were!   I  am glad that  fields still lay golden and that apples  still ripen, now . . . for this is how  I remember August

 

 

 

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24 thoughts on “I Remember August

  1. A beautiful memoir of August, Michele. I especially enjoyed stories of you first grade and the grouchy librarian. Like you, I wonder how she could have been grouchy. Keep reminiscing. I hope the appraisal comes in soon. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you Jennie. I was reading well in first grade and had to convince her because the books were divided into sections of ability! What a day when she allowed me to use a different section . . . then I dared to want more than one book! haha! She never smiled ever! oh I could write an entire post! I started returning my books early, because she made me feel so selfish and she did warm up a bit after that. I know this breaks your heart, but I still loved the library anyway! thank you love Michele

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  2. Dear ma’am
    I would have loved living in a library too- not a science library like the one in my university but a real, live library, that probably has a resident librarian who comes out at night. I used to imagine myself visiting my favorite library at night, because in the day they would only allow us one or two books to borrow- at night I could read as many as I wanted. Grouchy librarian- not good. Maybe some apple pie would have softened her up.
    i can almost smell your apple pies too. August is a good month because there are many birthdays and there is the wait for September which is the Fall term and then October- bliss.
    Susie

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The summer here has been hot, dry and relentless, if you could spare a little rain it would be much appreciated, how could a librarian ever be grumpy ? ~ as a child that was my dream job. September is the month for apple crumble for me, take care of yourself and enjoy the peace & quite while it lasts 🙂

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    1. For now, I do have a good memory of my childhood. It was a wonderful time and I remain so grateful. . .and I miss everybody!! Selling is a complicated business and the timing is messy with new school year and Jenny having a baby in September! Things will work out as they will . . they always do! Thank you Diane xoxox Michele

      Liked by 1 person

  4. You’re right, waiting can be a very difficult thing! I think you are smart to be intentional about it, rather than fretting about the house not selling as quickly as you had hoped. I struggle with waiting too, so believe me, I can relate. But as you pointed out, we can learn from these periods of waiting and even enjoy them if we try!

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    1. Thank you Ann-I am afraid I struggle sometimes with waiting, but lately a sense of peace has settled on me thankfully. Things will work as they should and when they should too, And I must remind myself of that. Thank you again-love Michele

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I feel nostalgic also about summer this year. Usually I’m very ready for the rhythm of autumn and school by this time, but I’m holding on tightly to summer and it’s perfumed, warm winds. We’ve had a normal summer full of family things and road trips, but I still feel like soaking in more endless days with “nothing” to do (of course, we know there is never NOTHING to do, but perspective helps) feeling without school and autumn music lessons etc.

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  6. Sometimes I fear being a grownup is almost worst than age thirteen. At least I looked a bit like a child, and was not old enough to drive a car or vote. I could get away with a lot of child’s play (and will freely admit that I enjoyed Tonka trucks in the sandpile ’til I was 15).
    Nowadays, it’s a difficult trick. To act like an old man that knows how to play, when really it is not acting, and inside are still those rings: age 12, age 14, age 16.
    The blessing of grandchildren. No one thinks I’m senile when kids are there to play with.

    Paz

    Liked by 1 person

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