In the Midwest, when August comes, it is the warmest time of the year and it happens to be around my birthday so, as a child and young adult, I also felt very celebratory at that time of the year. But I also felt a sense of melancholy that summer would inevitably end, and snow and cold would come. I wrote this piece about the beauty and nostalgia of that time of year. When the fields are being harvested. It is humid and hot, but not so much that you don't want to spend all your time outdoors. Running through the wheat and the corn fields. The grasshoppers jumping in the day and fireflies and crickets at night. The wind blowing a warm breeze across everything and a smell of comfort and calm. Knowing that winter was coming, so it was important to embrace the importance and wonder of right now.