And I stop by a gateway
To smoke a cigarette
And stares across the fields and remember
The gypsy fairs of August
And early evening haze
The dirty golden mustard of September
Martin Newell, Black Shuck
Today is my wife and I are celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary. From what I read online, it means we are celebrating our porcelaine anniversary. Although, according to Wikipedia, the 20th year of marriage is marked by the porcelaine anniversary and there's nothing between the 15th (crystal) and the 20th. So I am quite confused. Its gemstone is the chrysoberyl, commonly known as cat's eye. But in the end, what matters is that we will celebrate today with our little boy and that we built a family together.
You might think I'm obsessed about autumn, and you would be entirely right. I'm very obsessed about it. But these days, we have been blessed with signs of the autumn to come. August is not always a very nice month for people like me: it can be too hot, too summery, and it often is. Indeed, it has been this year, until fairly recently. But now, it is much cooler, it does not get any higher than lower 20s in the middle of the day, so from the evening (which comes way earlier) until morning, I can actually wear a light jacket, pure blissful joy. It often has that autumn breeze as well. It is like we are in a full on autumnal rehearsal. I even saw some leaves changing colour, although they are hard to spot.
I don't want to sound like I am repeating myself, but I know I am. But I need to keep in mind that autumn is on its way, because tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, it is meant to be hot. Well, by hot I mean around 25 degree Celsius, the temperature that gets me uncomfortable. One last blast of that dreadful summer. But I do know autumn is coming. Because in the middle of the week, it should cool down considerably, in the lower twenties. Then there is he cool breeze we feel. Just enough to give a shiver. Even watching it in the trees, it makes you feellike autumn is near. And finally, there is the sun going down earlier and earlier. Sometimes August just feels like autumn, like it's the case now. Sometimes.
This post is another autumnal chronicle or, rather, a pre-autumnal chronicle. Because for the last few days, I have seen the signs of the upcoming autumn. I have made a list here, because I am in an autumnal mood already (being my favourite season and all that) and because I want to savour each moment, each manifestation heralding its arrival:
-After weeks of heatwave, the temperatures have finally gone down. Oh, it's still in the lower twenties and it's not auutmnal yet, but it's a welcome change from the year. And you can feel a coolness in the air, especially in the evening, that really feels autumnal.
-The breeze. It gives you a slight shiver when you feel it, and it smells moist and ever so slightly not quite summery.
-Dusk. The sung goes down way earlier and you can finally see it. Even my wife noticed it yesterday.
-The leaves have already started changing colours on some trees.
So there you have it. We are not there yet, but I am starting to feel the season coming. And that makes me very happy.
Je reviens sur mon billet du 16. J'avais alors commis un calembour atroce: "mi-août, miaou". En fait, c'était pas le mien, mais le calembour involontaire (mais quand même atroce) de bien des connaissances quand j'étais enfant. Or, j'ai vu que Stéphane Laporte l'a commis dans une chronique, La nostalgie du présent. Et en plus, il l'a commis volontairement. Je ne sais pas quoi en penser, sauf ayoye. Outre cela, je ne suis pas vraiment d'accord avec ce qu'il pense de ce mois-ci ou du suivant, mais ce sera (peut-être) pour un prochain billet.
Nous étions hier la mi-août. Que je prononce mi-ou. Mais quand l'étais jeune, il y avait des camarades de classe qui disaient "mi-aou". Comme miaou. Je trouvais la prononciation un peu colonne et le calembour, bien qu'involontaire, partièrement atroce.
I came across this neologism, Auctober, on various social media recently. From what I read, it means when temperatures in August feel more like October. It is the case now. It might not last, but it does feel cooler and very autumnal for August. In extension, it also means the state of mind and the way autumn and Halloween lovers deal with the month of August, like a big, long countdown to Halloween. I was embracing it before I knew the term existed, unconsciously. But now, I have decided that Augtober will be part of my vocabulary and my official state of mind this month. I am now reading horror stories. And Augtober is also, as you have guessed, the word of the day.
And as the daylight's fading
When Lammas has come in
And gleamers go to work among the stubble
There comes an autumn sickle
To cut the summer's throat
Before the season knows it is in trouble
Martin Newell, Black Shuck
We are Lammas Day, and as it is a tradition here, I quote this poem. The first day of August and this lovely evocative quote about it are a reminder of two things: 1)autumn is on its way, closer than before, 2)so is Halloween. So I am getting in an autumnal mood, and I have already started reading horror stories.
I know it will get warmer, even hotter by the end of this week, but I don't care right now: I can feel autumn coming. There are the telltale signs: temperatures have dropped ever so slightly, there has been a bit of rain and you can feel it in the wind. You can smell it too, the slight damp coolness that smells so much like early autumn. You can feel it even more in the evening, and yes, night is falling earlier and when evening falls it even looks a but like the dim autumnal dusks. It is not merely wishful thinking: the season is less than a month away, so I feel deliciously melancholic in anticipated happiness. Because yes, melancholy brings its own kind of happiness.
The holidays are in full swim now, it's only early August, yet I started getting advertisement for it. I receive promo emails, I see messages online and on the high street: it's "Back to School". I hated it as a child. It used to spoil the last week of the holidays. That's why for years, I associated the month of August with blues. Now that I am a grownup, it hasn't changed: it's like I'm receiving a shot of uber potent melancholy in the veins every time I read that dreaded message. I can smell it, even: it smells of paper, pencils and cardboard. You know the smell. Read the title of this post, I dare you, and tell me in the comments if you can smell it, see it, feel it. I feel sorry for Wolfie: I want him to enjoy his time off, not worry about the coming school year. That's a parent's job.
