August Farrago

Readers of the Balcony are a small, exclusive, and devoted lot who deserve far better than the meager output I’ve managed of late. Not much to offer in my own defense, other than to say these are the canine days of August which bring heat and induce lassitude.

There is no shortage of subjects to write about, only insufficient motivation to do so.

Here on the Platinum Coast a trio of events marks summer: the Solstice parade, the 4^th of July fireworks celebration, and Fiesta week. All are behind us now, though tourists still meander along State Street or wander Cabrillo Boulevard in search of landmarks to film or photograph. For kids, mine included, the clock is winding down and the new school term is no longer a distant event. Fans of the English Premier League (go Chelsea!) are anxiously awaiting the start of a new campaign, only a few days off now; American professional football teams are playing pre-season games, and the marathon Major League Baseball campaign has entered the stretch run toward the playoffs, and Derek Jeter and the Yankees are still in the hunt, despite being beset by injuries to key players all year.

The marine layer that is so prevalent in June and July hasn’t dared show its dreary face for days; mornings dawn clear, and in the late afternoon, cumulonimbus cloud formations rise over the blue-green Santa Ynez mountains. Seeing the clouds billow over peaks I have looked at most of my life, I can’t help but think of wildfires; we’ve had our share the past few years. When the foothills and backcountry are tinder dry a single errant spark and some wind are enough to produce a conflagration. Never will I forget being five or six, looking toward the mountains after sunset from our house on Ardilla Drive, and seeing flames from what came to be called the Coyote Fire advancing along the ridgeline as if no power on earth could stop them. The image has stayed with me all these years.

As the heat of the day gives way to another lovely evening, I can tell you, loyal readers, that I’m a lucky SOB. My family is healthy and thriving, my spouse continues to love me after nearly twenty years of marriage, the roof over our heads, though modest and rented, is watertight and the refrigerator is well stocked with staples.

Only a fool would complain.