The sun stands still, high and stabbingly bright in the August sky. Down below on the heavy green earth the drone of insects is low and steady, while brilliantly-colored flowers fleck the shimmering landscape and moist heat envelops hidden creatures silently sleeping in the summer shadows. Time has stopped moving. Morning was too long ago to remember and there is little thought that night will ever fall, because the sun has always shone just so, and always will. Summer is eternal in the unrelenting clarity of the August light.

By the calendar's reckoning, August is the heart of summer, its thirty one days roughly in the middle of the ninety three and a half that make up the season. August feels like the heart of summer too, with its heat and humidity and the fullness of life unfolding everywhere, ripening under the unblinking sun. People are on vacation, and they're going to the beach, or the lake, or maybe sitting beside the pool with a cool drink in hand. They are taking it easy because it's summer and it's too hot to do much else. There is plenty of time. Take it easy.

Somewhere lurking in the month of August is a gigantic, invisible fulcrum. Maybe it comes earlier in the month or maybe later, but at some point we pass it and the balance starts to tilt. It will happen like this: One day you are casually looking out over the landscape, perhaps at some trees on the side of a hill, and you notice their color is just a little bit different. It's still green, but it has a different cast to it now. It's a little duller, with the slightest suggestion of olive or touches of yellow ochre, barely perceptible but somehow you notice it. Or maybe some flowers catch your eye and you stop to admire them, stepping in a little closer for a good look, and you are surprised to see that up close they do not look so perfect. You notice that many of them are past their prime, bedraggled, and there are holes in them, just as there are holes chewed in the leaves all around the flowers. Or perhaps you are cleaning up after dinner one evening and looking out the kitchen window, only to realize the sun is already low in the sky and dusk will soon descend. It's the first time you take notice that the days are growing shorter. Somewhere in the month of August the tide of summer turns and begins to ebb. This is not a scheduled event and no special day commemorates it. Like the brief shadow from a single cloud that swiftly glides by overhead, this moment comes and goes with little attention paid to it. It is a whisper barely heard, but the message it carries is full of portent. The midpoint has been passed and time moves on inexorably toward what comes next.

Oh, so soon?

Pay it no mind. The sun still shines and the days are golden. It's still summer and there is plenty of time. Take it easy.

Despite the heat the plants are still growing. Some bonsai have already been pruned half a dozen or more times this year, but they are still growing and will need to be pruned again. Grow and cut and grow and cut and grow and cut; that's where we are at right now. When maintaining the trees on display in the garden at this time of year, we practice what can be thought of as "pruning from the outside." That is, we are focused on appearances. We keep the tree's silhouette under control. We might snip off a wild hare shoot that is noticeably extending a distance through the canopy, but most of what is happening in the interior of the foliage mass is left as is for now. It is generally not noticeable, and we will be better able to see it and get at it once the growing season ends and the tree defoliates. However, when doing that pruning of the canopy's exterior, care must be taken with some species — like azalea — that bloom on the previous year's growth. The last pruning on such plants must be done at a time that allows for them to regrow and set bud before the growing season ends and the first frost occurs, or there will be no flowers next spring. Somewhere in early August is a likely time for that last pruning to happen. Plants not in that category might not have their last pruning of the season until September.

Watering of the bonsai continues to be a daily concern. All of them get checked every day, and when rain or heavy cloud cover doesn't intervene most of them get watered every day. A dry bonsai sitting out in the August sun is at serious risk. The rain has been good so far this summer — good enough to keep the plants in the bonsai garden landscape watered without any help from the hose. The bonsai appreciate the rain, never looking better than they do when they're watered from the sky, but the rain is never enough for very long. The bonsai depend on the person who makes the daily rounds, dragging the hose behind them. It is worth keeping in mind that how it goes with rain in the first half of the summer is no reliable indication of how it will be the rest of the way. The rain may dry up, or we may have a deluge that leads to flooding. Anything is possible and time will tell.

People may go on vacation in August, but the bugs and weeds never do. The pressure from both is unrelenting at this time of year. Our primary concern is keeping the garden and the bonsai on display looking as tidy and presentable as possible, because they are fully in the public's view, every single day. The hoop house is another story. There, right now, chaos is threatening to take over. Many of the bonsai in the hoop house are grossly overgrown and the weeds are prospering to an extent that a person dare not stand still too long out there for fear that the creeping green horde will climb up their legs and smother them. You can believe, too, there are countless bugs and other critters, of both the pest and beneficial variety, roaming around in that jungle. Right now the hoop house is like the room at home you store all the mess in, shutting the door when company comes. It’s embarrassing, but fortunately few visitors ever drop by.

Here is where experience makes all the difference, because experience tells us it is like this in the hoop house every August. When I go out there and start to panic, I remind myself to stay calm because we have been here before. We will catch up with the mess eventually. We will deal with the weeds and chase back the excess growth and get back on top of the situation, and we will not worry about it in the meantime.

It’s August and the sun is beating down hot. There is still time and we will catch up eventually. Take it easy.

Summer in the bonsai garden:

Summer in the mountains of North Carolina: