Fullness

Every year I am dragged by time into the fullness of summer. As August approaches, I mourn a little. Where has summer gone. Why have I wasted a minute of it. Winter is so long. Then a couple days into August I can see the gold tone under the green, and the richness of summer is everywhere in the golden afternoon light, the earlier sunsets, and the cooler mornings. August is a perfectly ripened fruit. In western Washington, late summer can last until Halloween and I feel a little bit silly and greedy about mourning in July.
I have always enjoyed Shakespeare at Lynndale Park. There is a perfect little natural amphitheatre surrounded by tall trees that allow sun in dapples and soft rays. As the sun sets and the stage lights take over and the dramatic tension builds and the audience leans in to follow, I feel connected viscerally to storytelling all the way back. I saw all four this year--Othello (got to love a good villain,) As You Like It, Romeo and Juliet, and All's Well that Ends Well. The quote I am holding onto is from As You Like It. Act II, Duke Sr in the forest of Arden:

Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Yet wears a precious jewel upon his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
I would not change it.