Wearing summer’s golden crown the month of August arrives like a struck match, burning quickly as we enter the dog days of summer. Wild fires lay waste the land as the scorching sun burns the gasping fields.
Dressed in golden rays of light, with Father Sun stamped, firmly into the cloudless sky, we enter the dust-covered, burning cathedral of summer. With windows wide open, the shade becomes as much of a joy as the scorching sun.
After June skips herself in everything is much quieter in the ancient woodlands, save the trembling aspens in their gowns of green. Summer releases her spell and each bright hour lingers long past our evening walk.
Shall this be my favourite hour to leap across the Beltane fire, a dancing May Queen crowned in lily-of-the-valley, circling with soul and song. As light shines in every heart, all things seem possible in the merry month of May.