Observant NUGies will note today is the 15th day of August and right on schedule we have a noticeably milder, clearer summer day. These are the "Dog Days" of summer, so named because the Dog Star, Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, can't be seen this time of year as the sun is between it and the earth. Ancients believed that Sirius emitted heat and when Sirius and the sun got together, it got hot. This conjunction occurs in August, hence "Dog Days".
But our dog days are usually in July. 100 or so miles south of the 45th parallel (just north of New Meadows) we're definitely in the most temperate part of the temperate zone. Our geography not only gives us 4 seasons, but pretty clear demarcations of them. Today was perfect-I jogged up to Fort Boise cemetery with a full breeze, noted the more yellowish cast to the sagebrush. A lot of people ignore sage, but I love it. As fall approaches it gains a certain nobility, it catches the light differently, accents the slant of the sun just so. That was on full display today for those, like me, who know to look for it.
August-there are no major national holidays this month, a singular distinction. As autumn warms up in the green room, stretching her tonsils, getting ready for her closeup (ref "Sunset Boulevard"), the NUGie faithful know what fall means.
This will be the last this year of my non-Boise State football GAZETTAs (ok, probably not the last, but I'll cut down-like a smoker trying to quit). I'll be more about the game, our players, now and then, and in general prove the Munsonian Theorem that all the things in the universe connect to Boise State Bronco football and closest to my heart among all those things are my NUGie readers. I'm drawn to say that because, as one who has had many more falls than most of you, I am also aware that the beautiful fall, like a sunset, is a harbinger of an ending. With each one you see, you know there are fewer left. Words I heard at 15, in the full sap of my own "summer", now sound near mournful;they haven't changed, but I have:
August, die she must
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.
("April Come She Will" Simon & Garfunkel @1967)