August the Cruel

This past week, Summer eased her balmy grip on the coast, and, as I stood here on the porch on Friday night in the soft light of the setting sun, I acknowledged the wane of the season. 

While T.S. Eliot cast April as unkind, August can be terribly cruel as well, teasing with symptoms of the coming season: a cool morning, a grey day damp with drizzle, followed by an abrupt return the summer inferno.

Though we are wise to the tricks of August, we cannot help but dream of fall. 

Time should never be wished away, but it is hard to love a season with such a brazen disregard for personal comfort. Just as one grows wise to the artfulness of August, one does the same for summer. True you cannot change the weather, nor the season, lest you change your location, living in the South means adapting. 

This year has by far been my most joyous summer here, attributed mainly to the shearing of my once-mighty [unruly] mane. 
The simplicity of having short hair-- humidity resistant, healthy, cooperative, short hair, has been a boon, not only to my ego, but to my health, for, in my experience, looking good can often lead to feeling that way as well. 

After a long day in and out the heat and humidity, my set, though a bit untidy, survived unassisted by hairspray or pomade. Had I actually remembered to spritz my 'do before heading out, this picture might have been much more impressive.

Last Friday, a day originally intended for errands, turned into a day for me. 
It's not often that I head out on my own, as my beau and I generally run errands together, but the mortgage needed to be paid, my beau was at work, and, feeling good in one of my favorite frocks and my summer-proof coiffure, I couldn't help but deviate from the bank-then-straight-home plan.

The friendly hound: after a day spent cooped up, Sam is always eager to give hugs when we return home.

Time spent perusing the softly lit aisles of the cosmetics store (my first visit ever), an hour or two spent pawing through the racks at my favorite thrift store, and an energetic, nearly frantic, visit to one of the most amazing time capsule estate sales (shopping for myself and Fair Sails) and my day was complete. 

Sometimes bliss is just browsing, alone and unhurried.

Dress-- Vintage, "A Junior First Fashion"
I cannot, for the life of me, remember where I picked this dress up, but after years of it being too big, the hypothyroid-related swelling in my lower half fills it out nicely (a glass half full approach to an otherwise annoying symptom).

Shoes-- Black patent leather wedge sandals.
(Not pictured, of course, because I couldn't be bothered to venture any farther than the porch)

Earrings-- 40s/50s West Germany faceted black glass clip-ons purchased from Fair Sails

So, here's to feeling good, and feeling you look good. To taking a day for yourself, to dreaming of fall, and adapting to the wiles of the season.

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