The first week of August hangs at the very top of the summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for after.
– quote from Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
I sit quietly at this moment breathing in the stillness of summer knowing that in a matter of days we will speed over the top of the Ferris wheel sailing toward fall, cool weather and a new school year. The tumbling speed of students as they step through the door with summer smiles is pushing. I can feel it but for now I will take one more quiet breath and sit still a moment longer.