The last day of July. I will never complain about weather (at least, I hope that's the truth); it's a waste of time, of energy, and a poor use of our profound capacity for observation.
But I will tell you this: out of all the months in all the year, July ranks twelfth in my top ten. It is a long month, a still month, and there is probably reason for that. But here, we have climbed into the midway point between summer and autumn, and it's a different season entirely.
In Traditional Chinese Medicine, this is the fifth season--late summer. Our pagan roots call it Lammas (August 2nd), and here, finally, is the harvest, the time to move again, the stillness and heat and weightiness of all that green fecundity is gently lifted away, day by shortening day.
We can breathe. And it is so much easier.