August 6, 2026

Good morning!

It’s Thursday. I was going to look up “when are the dog days of summer?” but realized it wasn’t worth wasting 40 gallons of water on a Google search when dwelling in the question is so much more fun.

Going by what I’m seeing around here, and despite the absence of any actual dogs, I do declare we have reached the apex of dog-days-of-summerdom. The beans are taking it slow, as was our snoozing bee. Yesterday’s turkeys didn’t seem particularly rushed. And now we have this snail that I found moseying along the edge of the house, unhurried and unperturbed, without a care in the world.

Therefore, I propose we take our signal from the natural world—of which we are a part, lest you forget—and slow our own physical and mental pace to match the moment.

“We never keep to the present. We recall the past; we anticipate the future as if we found it too slow in coming and were trying to hurry it up, or we recall the past as if to stay its too rapid flight. We are so unwise that we wander about in times that do not belong to us.”

—Blaise Pascal

Onwards,

Clara