Farewell August 2023. You reminded me frequently of bygone Augusts that were markedly not like you. In 1966, the cow paths puffed a swirl of dust with each lumbering hoof as the critters ambled back up to the barn at milking time. The searing heat seemed to make the Cicadas hum louder with each degree further into the 90s. Still, it wasn’t as hot as it was dry.

This August, with curtain closing today, paints a scene of lush green, reminiscent more of April than August. I know not the rainfall stats for the month. I don’t need to. Suffice it to say that it was plentiful, certainly for August. Farmers tend to bitch and moan about the weather regardless of what it does.

I’ll defer on that today and say thanks to Him who calls the shots!