Read by Matilda Longbottom

There’s something about August that feels like the garden’s grand finale before Fall starts tapping on the shoulder. It’s hot, a little chaotic, and honestly, I’m never quite sure if I’m winning or losing the battle with the weeds. But every year, like clockwork, I dive into the madness with my trusty sun hat, a half-full watering can, and the kind of determination usually reserved for Olympic athletes.

My August mornings begin with a cup of coffee in one hand and a tomato in the other—because, yes, I now eat tomatoes like apples. Don’t judge me. When the plants are bursting with ripe fruit, you can either preserve them, share them, or eat them as-is, juice dripping and all. I do all three, but the tomato-as-snack approach is by far the most satisfying. Especially when no one’s watching.

August is also when my zucchini takes over like it’s auditioning for a sci-fi movie. I swear it grows overnight. One day it’s a cute little squash, the next it’s the size of a toddler. I’ve taken to stealthily leaving extras on neighbors’ porches like some kind of produce fairy—though I’m not sure everyone appreciates my generosity. I caught one neighbor returning the favor with a bag of cucumbers. It’s a silent garden gift exchange with no winners, only more vegetables.

Then, there are the sunflowers. Oh, the sunflowers! I plant them every year and every year they grow taller than me, with big golden faces that turn toward the sun like they’re posing for selfies. They make me feel like a child again—small, amazed, and slightly suspicious that they’re listening to my thoughts.

But it’s not all picture-perfect. My compost pile has developed a personality of its own. I tossed a watermelon rind in there, and now I have surprise watermelon vines sneaking through the fence like garden ninjas. Part of me wants to pull them out, but the other part wants to see what happens. August is good for that—just letting things grow wild and seeing what nature decides to do.

And let’s not forget the bees. My garden hums with them, a gentle buzz that’s oddly soothing. I like to think they approve of my slightly chaotic garden, especially the late-blooming herbs and those accidental wildflowers I never got around to weeding out. Honestly, they might be the happiest residents of this whole setup.

So, yes, August in the garden is sweaty, a bit unruly, and full of surprises. But it’s also when the garden throws its biggest party—ripe with tomatoes, loud with insects, and bursting at the seams with green life. I may end each day with dirt under my nails and at least one mystery itch, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Except maybe a break from the zucchini. ❖