The month of
August once kicks off its first day with an ancient festival called Lammas Day.
Celebrated on August 1st by early Christian communities, it marks the start of
the wheat and grain harvest, giving thanks for the first crops. Its name comes
from the Old English words hlāfmæsse, meaning "loaf-mass,"
because people baked bread from the new grain and brought it to church to be
blessed.
Besides Lammas
Day, The International Day of the World’s Indigenous Peoples is
celebrated on August 9th’; National Aviation Day on the 19th;
and Women’s Equality Day, which celebrates the 19th Amendment, on August
26th. Lastly, the month of August invites us to relish the last joys
of summer.
In Pennsylvania, August is usually hot. Temperatures can range from 70 to 80+. If the rainfall is also favorable, our gardens are filled with mature vegetables to harvest: squash, cucumbers, tomatoes, bell peppers, sweet corn, and more.
As part of a
farm family growing up, I was always in awe about the largeness of our garden.
My mother both canned and froze the produce. We had learned quickly not to tell
her that we were bored. Those words would send us outside with a trowel, hoe,
or hand cultivator to weed a row of onions or corn or whatever vegetable she decided
needed care after peering out the kitchen window at the garden.
I often enjoyed
the task. It was an effortless one which allowed me to daydream while tiny
insignificant weeds were laid to rest in the sunshine and wilt. I also make a
connection with nature as I watched the plants grow. It brought a quiet sense
of patience and inner peace-- and self-satisfaction to see a clean, weed-free
row evolve when I was finished.
I was the child
who disliked inside work like sweeping, dusting, and cleaning. There was
something magical about outdoor work where a gal could be alone and conjure up her
muses. Although I will admit, I also liked ironing for the same reason—entering
la, la land in my head.
When signs of autumn start to sneak up on the horizon, I become a little melancholy realizing the long hours of daylight will fade once September draws near.
But until then, I’m overjoyed to be outdoors with the plants, the birds, and the bees. . . and those delightful summer days of August.
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