August is the month of the most saturated green. The
thickest...
August is the month of the most saturated green. The
thickest sort of verdure. These days crawl and summer bends itself towards rot.
The fruit flies and I do battle in the kitchen. I win and lose. July, the worst
month, ends, and I think, thank god, here we are in August. But I forget I’m
wrong about the beginning. The sky stays flat. It’s still deep summer. But what
I know about August is that the light changes. And the change, the shift in
shadows, the way it makes the leaves glow, the new gold angles that it falls,
it whispers of fall. What I know about August is these first days are hot and
the green is saturated green, the densest green, and in thirteen days, give or
take, it will not be like this. And if is, it won’t stay hot like this for long,
and the sky will have dimensions again – do you remember the
dimensions of the September sky? the sharper edges of the September sky? the
depth and detail of the September sky? – and a long-sleeved shirt
will be pulled from the drawer. I hate wishing time away, but this, each year,
is a sickness and I want to be well.
[Summer in Nidden by
Max Pechstein, 1919-1920]
