Oh, the beginning of July.
What most of us know is how it was named. July is named after Julius Caesar. But what did people call it before old Julius came along? Well. Before 44 BC, the month was called Quintilis. That word meant the “fifth month” in the old Roman calendar.
I like July well enough. It is hot, and that is good. It is the air conditioning that I can’t stand. In restaurants, especially. Why do people feel the need to turn their thermostats down to Arctic levels? Someone explain this to me.
I know that in the Northern Hemisphere, July is typically the warmest month of the year because the land and oceans have had time to absorb weeks of summer sunshine. But that shouldn’t give people the license to freeze out everyone who enters their stores, their restaurants, their homes, even. Have a warm heart, will you?
At any rate, July is of the lengthy type. It is one of only seven months with 31 days.
It doesn’t seem to make sense, but the Earth is actually farthest from the Sun in early July. This point is called aphelion. Even though we’re farther away, the Northern Hemisphere is warm because of the tilt of Earth’s axis, not our distance from the Sun. We seem to be leaning into the heat.
Here is another thing about this month. I love rocks, you know. The birthstone for July is the ruby. I love rubies too. Good rocks. The stone itself has long been associated with passion, courage, and protection. I’ve never owned a ruby anything. But I know a gal who has some fancy slippers.
While I know more about rocks, plants and flowers aren’t really my thing. But July’s traditional flower is the larkspur. It sounds like the name of a Western movie. The flower symbolizes positivity and strong bonds of affection. If I see one, please, someone let me know.
Here is the best July tip of all. Many fireflies reach peak activity in July, making it one of the best months to see them flashing across fields and backyards and such. Light ’em up, baby.
So there it is. A little bit of July goodness.
I was going to write a poem, but July doesn’t rhyme with anything. Anywhere.
The closest is untie, or reply. Neither of which makes for a good poem.
Happy Hot Month.
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“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day is by no means a waste of time.” — John Lubbock
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“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” — John Steinbeck
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“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
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