It was nearly 20 years ago when I packed up my house in the Pacific Northwest and moved to the Midwest; I didn’t know anyone here other than a few young adults from my church who were attending the same college I was going to attend. August was also the first time I’d ever heard a cicada – and while I was driving through Iowa I thought to myself, ‘Those are some crazy loud power lines!’ I was such a rookie.

August was also the first time I’d ever seen a firefly and I remember standing in my apartment at midnight peering out into the pitch-black backyard being wooed by their blinking lights; prior to moving here, I honest-to-goodness believed fireflies only existed in fairy tales – right along with fairies and gnomes. I was such a rookie.


Cicadas and fireflies mean that the temperature is hot and the humidity hangs in the air so thick my clothing sticks to my skin and my naturally wavy hair announces to the world, ‘I’m large and in charge!’

August means corn is sweet, green beans, squash, eggplant and tomatoes are plentiful and both blueberries and peaches are sweet and juicy.


And August also reminds me this was the time of year when I drove across the country not knowing my life was about to change . . . because I was going to meet the man I would give my heart to forever . . . my Professor.

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