I cling to August like a drowning woman. I know what's ahead and  I'm not willing to go gently.  I revel in it. I let the sun brown me more than I should.  I stay outside until the fireflies begin to twinkle. They are like the lamplights of my childhood. When they light up the dusky sky, it's time to head home.

All the bouquets of flowers have been removed from the Norwegian Embassy. Someone left a fresh one this morning.

This image appears several times on the hot-enough-to-fry-an-egg sidewalk~

This one appeared once~

Canoes stacked up like art~

The chestnuts make a prickly appearance~

 The farmers market offers edible art~

Live sidewalk art~

There are messages on doors

And unicorns in the sky~

There are thinkers and dreamers~

August in the city. It's not time to go in just yet...