Well, it's September.  At least, that sounds cooler than August. 

Yeah, the stores are putting out their pumpkins, cornucopias, and candy corn and we're still sweating like pigs down here.  It does give a boost to our morale to see that, at least, fall is somewhere in our future but we know, no matter how many Halloween candy displays they pile up in the aisles, we have a long way to go with this heat.  It will be a while before we need the help of a fire to make our autumn S'mores.  We can just sit them out on the porch and enjoy the same gooey result for, at least, six more weeks. 

Yeah, when you turn your calendar over to September, the accompanying, thematic picture usually shifts from August's beach balls to baskets of apples and blankets of bright, orange leaves.  A southern calendar should pair September with a photo depicting a irritated, red-faced woman with sweat stains, standing out on her front lawn of crunchy, burned up grass which is crawling with ornery rattlesnakes, who are looking for a place to bed down for the winter and mosquitos, the size of blackbirds, trying to make the most of their last days.  That would seem to be a more appropriate depiction for around these parts.  Here are a couple of calendar contenders that I would like to submit from around my house for the month of September.  At some point around the second week of August, you just say......"You know what....you're on your own, outdoor plants."    
I don't know about where you live, but down here in the deep south, we've been just about to bake.  I'm pretty sure our juices are running clear at this point.  We've been slow roasting for 3 months in this crock pot called Mississippi and I feel like we surely must be fork tender by now.  Just a few days ago, our heat index was 108 and I'd challenge you to find a more ridiculous humidity level than ours anywhere outside a sauna.  This is my 46th Mississippi summer, so you'd think I'd be accustomed to this by now but I think my hormonal situation has inflamed my loathing. 

It's how our colder climate friends must feel about snow come February......that's where we are now with our heat down here.  We see them up there being interviewed by the Weather Channel about the woes of winter weather and we're down here like..."how could they not like the snow?....we love when it snows here....BOTH times!"  I imagine it's kind of like that.  Wondering how we couldn't love summer while sitting in 80 degrees with no humidity?  That's not summer...... we call that Thanksgiving Day in the South.  Glorious!           

Oh, and the advertisements for boots and sweaters for football games won't become a reality for us until maybe the next to the last one of the season.....unless you want to be carried out on a stretcher with oxygen.  And a scarf....well, that would mean certain death.  Oh, the stores are full of cool weather clothing and our mouths are watering for a wardrobe change but we know we're a long way from that.  Oh, we like to think that back to school and the launch of football season signals the triumphal entry of fall, but we, southerners,  know it only serves to encourage us to persevere through our trial.

We enjoyed the day at our alma mater's season opener Saturday night.  It was POURING rain right up until game time, but, at least, it kept the heat at bay.  Only people who need to be examined psychologically drive through rain that requires the hazards to be engaged for the entire trip to watch a ballgame that is going to be televised.  We've suspected for a while though that we should be psychologically examined.  There were almost 62,000 people in attendance at the game and 61,000 of them were in the bookstore beforehand looking for a poncho.  Oh, mercy.....my kingdom for a poncho!