Not the Puppy Days of August

 

August never has been a favored month of mine. Summer has lost its appeal about half way through August's days of increased heat and humidity; the miles of extra sweating and the chaffing that follow you down the trail are all on August. August is the month to get through so you can get on to autumn. If times flies through its thirty-one days, well, so much the better.

August is the month that those big monsoon clouds build up over the desert and we hope that they will make their way over the mountains to where we are, but they almost never do - it's rather disappointing. It's August. 

I was hoping a new pup would be arriving at the homestead during the coming week. I was stoked by the prospect, but it's not going to be now. It's August after all. The mrs. awoke one day this past week and realized she wasn't ready to take on a new puppy. I was sorely disappointed by the news, but it is one of those decisions that has to be unanimous. 

"When have I last looked on

The round green eyes and the wavering bodies

Of the dark leopards of the moon?

All the wild witches, those most noble ladies,

For all their broom-sticks and their tears,

Their angry tears, are gone.

The holy centaurs of the hills are vanished;

I have nothing but the embittered sun;

Banished heroic mother moon and vanished,

And now that I have come to fifty years

I must endure the timid sun."

(Yeats)

Ah well, life goes on and so does the riding. Played one of those games of mountain biking tag on this mornings' ride - through the dam basin and out along the Heights Trail I would catch Red on the uphills and he'd go out ahead on the downhills. That much is in order anyway. 

I will say this much for August - it does usher in all that color to the evening sky. I don't know if it was due to all the brush clearing in the Out There opening access to a shallow basin, or if all the washboarding to the road has caused a shaving of speed giving me time to notice, but I rode into that basin one evening with vivid hues all around. That too is August.

Canyon of the Cucamonga

apparently there was some rain, there is evidence of flowing water, and the rocky stream crossing just behind me in the photo was downright muddy