The other day I saw a headline on a BookRiot email blast: “August is Spooky Season Jr.” I’ve often wondered why more horror fans haven’t emphasized this. It’s not just that stores start putting out their Halloween merch, and it’s not that Summerween has taken hold. No, it’s a feeling in the air. When I was younger, August always seemed like the hottest month, the dog days of summer. For many years now, however, I’ve begun to feel autumn’s approach in this month. Some of the earliest trees begin to change (some start even in late July). And if I take the time to smell the air when I step outside on an August morning, the first hints of harvest greet me. The produce at the farmers’ markets should be a regular alert to that. And my mind turns to the half of the year with which I most resonate.
It’s as if nature wears a mask, lulling us to suppose the weather will always be warm enough to sustain us, dropping rain in appropriate amounts at the correct time. Yet we know that we have attacked our planet and it knows so too. The true nature of all of this is change. And change is scary. A deep-seated fear accompanies autumn. Did we store enough away for winter? Is the house winterized? What if the furnace breaks down? What if the cold truly becomes too intense to stand? I spend most of the year wearing multiple layers and fingerless gloves indoors. Cloudy days make my office so chilly I can barely stand the lower thermostat setting until the end of the work day. What if snow prevents me from getting to the store? What if there truly is something scary in the dark? All of this begins in August.
I watch horror movies year round. I like to read creepy tales. I even try my hand at writing a few. Even so, I’m glad to learn that I’m not the only one whose thoughts turn toward Samhain even as Lughnasadh dawns. A cool day in August is enough to start the chain-reaction going. Some of us feel the respiration of fall even now. Hear its slow heartbeat. See its rictus grin. Harvest tells us something about our own souls. Our sins catch up with us as the nights grow longer. The sun sets nearly an hour earlier than it did in late June, have you noticed? And it rises nearly an hour later, I’ve noted. Let spooky season jr. begin!
