If August and I had a relationship, it would be one with a *history*. Past Augusts have brought me unwelcome change, fear, heartbreak even. August used to mean saying goodbye to Austin and going back to a long distance relationship. It used to mean back to burnout and the end of any semblance of balance. August used to so strongly signal pain to me, that I made a habit of rewatching my comfort movie series at the beginning of August just to scare away the fear as long as I could. But now August is just August. There’s no more goodbyes, there are no more exams, no more dread. It’s just a long silken month as summer fades away, and I’m learning to love August again. For its overripe scent, and lingering heat. The final exhale of a spectacular showing of life. August, I’ve found, is nothing to be afraid of, rather something to drink slowly, like nectar. Please enjoy these rambling thoughts and photos from wondering our overgrown August of a yard with my film camera as the sun rose this morning.