The Dog Days of August

Sorry, but I just couldn't resist myself.

Now that the 4th of July has passed into oblivion, the Summer's tidal wave of house guests have begun to recede, the annual Road Race and Peaks to Portland swim occurred last week, the pancake breakfasts are nearly rich memories and the TEIA Annual Fair took place last weekend, the recognition dawns that the Summer is beginning to wind down. The first two weeks of August on Peaks has a slightly slower pace to it than July. More books are being read by individuals sprawled out on porches; of course the level of books being read is decreasing by the week. Gone are the works of literature. To the forefront come the trashy political thrillers and works of romance. More walks are being taken but the pace has slowed to take in the natural beauties of the Island. More fishing is taking place even at 7 am.

Of course, this slower pace is transitory and illusionary. Toward the end of the second week of August, there dawns a crystal clear day with deep blue skies, few clouds and a light breeze right out of the northwest. The temperatures are about ten degrees cooler in the morning and you can smell the first hint of Fall. Talk on the morning boat turns to woodpiles for the locals and school shopping for the families. It's a starting pistol that goes off every mid August. From that day until people leave for their winter homes, a frantic last ditch effort psychological impulse runs right through the Island as powerful as a lightening bolt as mental checklists are rechecked and efforts redoubled to accomplish everything that was put down on that list the third week of June. Of course, the list is never completed but until it's acknowledged that that is just fine and acceptable, the intensity level of the Island is on overdrive for about ten days until the outflow of humanity begins the last week of August. Right around Labor Day, the locals start to raise their heads out of their Summer bunkers and begin to once again see individuals they've been missing since late June; it's a wonderful sense of reunion that occurs each Labor Day.

Enjoy the pics of my friend Brutus or Bru for short. He's a wonderful biiiig dog that belongs to a dear friend of Jill and I. He just loves to hang out on our deck; well, hang over the deck is more appropriate. Telling tales, he has to stay on the deck since our part Maine coon cat simply cowers him at every turn inside the house. He's just a wonderful visitor to have around from time to time.