August is like that peach syrup I remember from my childhood. A neighbor had made some from the peaches in her garden and treated me to an unforgettable glass of it. And so this is how I always imagine August – its color is burnt yellow, it’s thick with sweetness, and it has none of the frenzy that July is branded with.
August is nonchalantly elegant and artfully laissez-faire. It calls for biking with a straw hat on and afternoon naps in a hammock. August is synonymous with unintentional indulgence, innocent extravagance and gentle hedonism. It is to be savored by the sip and devoured by the spoonful.
Go forth and spread the word while we still have twenty-eight precious days left to delight in the blue mornings, sultry afternoons and cool evenings of the most splendid of all summer months.