Ingredients for August

August is summer’s goodbye party and she never goes quietly. She’s loud, sweaty, golden, and just a little dramatic. One minute you’re melting into a lawn chair with a Bomb Pop in hand, the next you’re seeing school buses on the road again and wondering if you should buy a planner… even though you graduated in May.

That’s the weird magic of August. You’re not going back to school, but you still feel like you are. Something about the smell of rubber erasers and fresh-cut grass makes you a little soft. You remember the butterflies, the locker combinations, the way a brand new backpack made you feel invincible. And even now, as a grown-up with no school supplies list to follow, August still tugs on those same strings — part closing chapter, part clean slate.

So here’s to the things that make August what it is.

1. “Where did summer go?” said on a cool Tuesday evening, sweatshirt in hand.

   
   

2. Your skin tan and parched, your hair sun-kissed and salty, your nail polish dull from sand.

   
   

3. A hot dog dressed in ketchup, an ice-cold can of beer, and three home runs to the tune of Take Me Out to the Ballgame.

   
   

4. Poolside on Monday, outdoor dining on Tuesday, local concert on Wednesday, fireworks on Thursday, ice cream on Friday — all to chase the last moments of summer.

   
   

5. The smell of freshly-mowed grass and sharpened pencils, and back-to-school nostalgia that still tugs at something inside you.

   
   

6. One too-ripe peach eaten over the sink, juice dripping down your wrist, sticky and sweet and gone too fast.

   
   

7. A half-packed suitcase by the door, because August always begs for one last road trip — even if it’s just to the lake.

   
   

8. Panic downloading the parking pass before you get to the last outdoor concert of the summer.

   
   

9. Fairgrounds at golden hour, kettle corn in hand, Ferris wheel lights spinning against a cotton candy sky.

   
   

10. Glitter on your collarbone from the wedding that ran late. The one where you danced barefoot and stayed for cake.

    
    

11. Church pews sticking to the backs of your knees, the fan humming, the hymn slow and familiar.

    
    

12. Sand in your car floorboards and you don’t even mind because it means you lived a little.

    
    

13. Flip flops by the door, slightly melted chapstick in your bag, and a Mason jar of half-dead wildflowers on the table.

    
    

14. A late-night drive with the windows down and no real destination; just the crickets, the warm air, and the soundtrack of something you used to feel.

    
    

15. The quiet panic of noticing the days getting shorter, even if you try not to.

    
    

16. That deep, aching want to hold on just a little longer — to the freedom, the sun, the way August makes everything feel golden.

So here's to August being a sweet goodbye kiss to summer!

All my love,

Neva