Peach Friedman
author, educator & trainer
intuitive fitness for women

August is one of my favorite months: traditionally hot, humid, and muggy–the month when so many people escape home for a vacation at the beach or in the mountains. I’m reminded of sweaty evenings as a child, running around outside to catch lightning bugs in the backyard. We would capture them in mason jars, cover the lid with wax paper and poke a few holes on top (so they could breathe, we thought). By morning they’d be dead, or flailing pathetically in the bottom of the jar. Or else Mom would take them from our bedsides after we’d fallen asleep and release them back into the night.

There are no lightning bugs in Sacramento. It’s not exactly humid or muggy here, either (though it’s opressively hot most days), and I’m not vacationing this month. Still, August is ripe with summer lust: steamy sidewalks, an unbeatable sun. I take my escape in ice cream cones and evening swims. Long strides through a neighbor’s sprinkler. Open windows at night.

Happy summer, readers; fall is almost here.